Vindication
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: Christian struggles with his emotions after King Arnulf has a scare. Follows 'Sins of the Father'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _While this isn't a typical_ Fantasy Island_-format story, I think the theme would have made a good subject for an episode (possibly a two-parter, due to its length). There's also a large amount of additional backstory for Christian in this one; in some future tale I'll add to Leslie's backstory as well. As ever, I truly appreciate your feedback and your thoughts, and look forward to hearing those that you have for this tale.  
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§ § § -- June 25, 2001

Christian loaded the last box into the back of a rover and blew out his breath, dusting off his hands. "That's that," he said. "The flatbed trucks with my furniture should be at the house already, so all we need to do is get over there ourselves." He peered at Leslie over the canopy and asked teasingly, "How often did your father have to bring you back from making plans for interior decorating this past weekend, my Rose?"

"Only six or eight times," she teased back, and they both laughed. "I really couldn't wait for today to get here, but moving in isn't the only reason." Leslie came around to the back of the car and slid her arms around him, kissing him long enough to leave him more than a little breathless. "Happy birthday, Christian, my darling. This is perfect timing—moving into our new home on your birthday. And I hope you don't have too many pressing plans for this evening or tonight."

"No, half the time I don't notice the passage of my own birthday," Christian admitted, "but it looks as if this year will be different. Thank you, my Rose, and hold that thought. Come on, let's go…I think your excitement is contagious." He grinned, pressed the car key into her palm and closed her fingers around it, then winked at her and headed for the front passenger seat. She jogged around to the driver's seat and paused, looking back at Glen Cottage and feeling a surprising surge of sadness.

Christian, just about to get into the car, saw her expression and caught himself on the edge of the canopy. "What's wrong, my Rose?"

"Remember the night of our wedding, when you said we'd be spoiled by this house? I'm glad we're finally moving into ours, but I'll miss this place. Let's face it, we were here for five months, and it was really feeling like home."

"Our house will start feeling like home in no time," Christian assured his wife, giving her a reassuring smile across the top of the car. "No time like now to begin, right? To tell you the truth, I'm impatient to get started."

Leslie grinned. "Onward and upward, is that it? In that case, let's get out of here." Christian laughed at that, and they settled into the car and made their last trip from Glen Cottage, heading for their home in the Enclave.

The house had been completed just the previous week, and on Wednesday afternoon Christian and Leslie had been ceremoniously presented with a house key apiece by Grady Harding, with Roarke there as a witness. After that things had started moving with speed. During the first week of June Christian's furniture had finally arrived from Lilla Jordsö and had been in storage since then; Roarke had taken them to the storage facility a couple of days afterward so Christian could check for damage and he and Leslie could take inventory of what they had and what they might still need for their home. Maureen, who by mere proximity as Leslie's immediate neighbor had suddenly become most privy to the goings-on at the Enstad home site, had suggested to Leslie that if she and Christian were in the house by his birthday, their entire group could throw him a birthday party there, and Leslie had cheerfully agreed. After that she hadn't heard a word from any of her friends, but she had hardly noticed because there was so much preparation to be done for the move.

The previous Saturday, with Christian and Leslie both working and the island's telephone company asserting that this was the only day they could get out there to install the phone, Grady had volunteered to wait for the workers. They had been and gone by early afternoon, at which point Grady called Christian at work and let him know the phone was in and what the number was. Christian had then e-mailed Leslie to pass on the information, and in turn Leslie had sent it along to her friends, with a reminder not to bother calling for a few days since there wouldn't be anyone there to answer. Christian had also taken the time to e-mail the phone number to his family in Lilla Jordsö.

Now Leslie and Christian made the ten-minute trip between Glen Cottage and the Enclave with the last of their boxed belongings, going over a checklist of what had been done and what still remained. "Did we get the power hooked up?" Leslie asked.

"I handled that last Friday," Christian said, making a check mark on the pad of paper he held. "And I got the computers over here as well…"

"Oh yes, the all-important computers," Leslie said teasingly, making the turn into the Enclave's main access road. "Can't forget those! I'm assuming you handled internet service when you called about the phone." Christian nodded and drew another check mark while Leslie continued, "And then there's the water service, and those guys were supposed to come out and level the driveway."

"I told them to just pave it," Christian said, shrugging. "We raise enough dust clouds in front of your father's house and on our own street as it is. Did you talk to Rogan about those seeds and shrubs you wanted for the front of the house?"

"Rogan said he'd do all that himself," Leslie said and grinned a little sheepishly at him. "He's aware of my black thumb and doesn't trust me as far as he can throw an amakarna seed. It's probably just as well."

Christian laughed. "Maybe I'd better make room in our budget for a gardener, in that case." He tipped his head out far enough to check the sky overhead. "I hope it doesn't decide to rain. Did you know that's bad luck in _jordiska_ folklore? If it rains while you're moving into your new house, you'll have every problem imaginable with the place from then on. Come to think of it, it was raining when I moved into my flat in Sundborg."

"I hope you don't actually believe that stuff," Leslie said lightly, navigating the lane to their house. "But the forecast says it's supposed to be clear for the next five days."

"Well, that's encouraging," Christian said with exaggerated relief, then grinned when Leslie rolled her eyes. "But I thought it was worth noting, considering the events that happened while I was living there. Rain or shine, I can't see life in our home being anything but happy. Oh, good, they did finish the paving. Looks like a perfect job."

"Yes, it does," Leslie agreed, turning the car into their newly-paved driveway and then grinning at him. "Well, here we go. I guess it's time to start using muscles that haven't gotten their share of exercise."

For about fifteen minutes Christian and Leslie trooped back and forth toting boxes into the house and dropping them around the still-empty living room; then they paused in the kitchen once the last of the cartons were inside and looked at each other. "Where's the furniture truck?" Leslie wondered.

"I don't know, I thought they'd be here before we were," Christian said, frowning. "I suppose if you want to get the last of your things from the main house, my Rose, you can do that now, and I'll wait for the truck." His expression changed abruptly. _"Herregud_, I forgot. Did you happen to notice if the washer and dryer arrived?"

"I'll take a look," Leslie said and made her way out of the kitchen, down the entry into the living room, where there was a fifteen-foot-square laundry alcove in the corner, set off by folding shuttered doors. She pushed these back and was rewarded by the sight of two brand-new machines waiting to process the first loads of laundry. "They're here, my love."

"Good, that's one thing anyway," Christian said, strolling back to join her and survey the alcove for himself. "They look fine right there. You were planning a grocery-shopping trip, weren't you, my darling? If you want, you could do that while you're taking your trip to the main house."

"I'll wait for you," Leslie said, shaking her head. "I'd rather you were with me so we can double-check each other…we need so much stuff. I'd completely forgotten moving was this much work. The last really major move was the one we made from Connecticut to California after _mormor_ died, and I was only eight then."

"But you moved here, and then you moved to Finland and back later," Christian said, looking puzzled.

"I had almost nothing to my name when I first came here," said Leslie. "Everything I owned fit into one aging duffel bag. And I didn't take a whole lot when I went to Finland with Teppo. Mostly I took just my clothes and some favorite things I couldn't do without. I'd planned to get the rest whenever Teppo and I came here for a visit, but we never had enough money to make the trip, and then he was killed. So even then it wasn't a major undertaking. I had two suitcases and another, bigger, duffel bag, and that was it."

"I see," said Christian, grinning. "Well, it seems to me that if—" He was interrupted by the sound of an air horn, and they both ran to the door to find that the furniture truck had finally arrived. "They're late, but they're here."

"So's the cavalry," Leslie exclaimed, scanning the vehicles behind the truck. Of all her friends, only Grady and Maureen, as well as Fernando and Tabitha, owned cars; the Hardings' was the one Grady used in his work, while the Ordoñezes boasted Fernando's green medical jeep. That very jeep was behind the truck now, crammed with people, and on its tail were two of Roarke's jeeps: Roarke drove one, bearing more people, and behind that was another with Rogan at the wheel, Julie beside him and still more folks stuffed inside.

"Is that your entire group of friends?" Christian asked, astonished.

"And their husbands, and even the kids!" Leslie confirmed. As she spoke, Grady and Maureen, with Brianna between them, appeared from their own house across the way, circling the furniture truck and pausing halfway across the front yard.

"Right on time," Grady said approvingly, while Maureen let go her daughter's hand and ran across the yard to hug Leslie.

"Congratulations, you two," she said. "And you'd better brace yourselves, because you've got loads of help moving in. Everybody's here to lend a hand, and not only that, we all come bearing gifts." She grinned at Christian. "This is a two-in-one party—a housewarming for this place, and a birthday celebration for you."

"A what?" Christian asked, looking blindsided.

"You're kidding…a housewarming party?" Leslie cried, wide-eyed. "I knew you were planning something for Christian's birthday, but the housewarming…!"

Maureen smirked and turned to the small crowd that was pouring out of the cars and crossing the yard in the Enstads' direction. "It worked," she yelled cheerfully at them. "Leslie didn't have a clue about the housewarming!"

A teasing cheer went up, and for a few minutes Christian and Leslie found themselves fielding congratulations on their new home. In addition, Christian endured a barrage of enthusiastic birthday wishes; by the time everyone had settled down and was ready to start working, he looked rather dazed. Leslie tucked her hand into his, catching his attention, and returned his earlier wink at her, making him blink in the sunshine. "Definitely the most memorable birthday I've ever celebrated," he remarked, shaking his head.

"I think that was the idea, my love," Leslie said, grinning. "Well, let's go!"

For the next three hours a steady stream of humans moved around the house, waiting till the professional movers had brought the furniture in and then going about pushing items into whatever spots Christian and Leslie designated. Moving the bed upstairs was a massive team effort from which the men banned the women, who gave in with good grace and retreated to the kitchen to mix up lemonade for everyone. Grady, Fernando, Christian, Rogan, Jimmy, Nick, Brian and Kazuo insisted that Roarke take a break from this particular project while they wrestled a queen-size mattress and box spring up the eight-foot-wide spiral staircase that provided access to the second story. Roarke agreed with some reluctance, and thus found himself laughing at the good-natured jeering Christian got for having designed the house with a spiral staircase instead of a regular one.

By the time the furniture was in place, the bed assembled and most of the boxes unpacked, it was dusk and everyone was ready to take a break. Leslie, with her friends and the older girls in the kitchen where they had been putting away plates, silverware, pots and pans, and other kitchenware, clapped a hand over her mouth. "What kind of party is this going to be without food?" she wailed, so distraught that the men turned in the living room to stare at her. "Oh my God, I have to be the worst hostess on the whole island!"

"We were supposed to go to the grocery store," Christian said in apology.

"Fear not, we handled that too," Maureen told them smugly. "Mom's catering service is handling all the eats. See, guys, I promised you there'd be ample rewards for all the work you did here. Let me give Mom a call and let her know we're ready."

Christian came into the kitchen and stopped behind Leslie, wrapping his arms around her from behind, while they both watched Maureen go to the phone and make the call. "We really never expected this," Christian remarked, surveying the women. "We told each other last evening at supper that we might as well consider this a lost weekend because of all the moving work we needed to do. And now, here it's all but done."

"You guys are priceless," Leslie agreed, her hands folded over Christian's. "All we have to do is the decorating, for heaven's sake. Hey, I just noticed, who hung the curtains in here? They look terrific!"

"We did," said Haruko Miyamoto, now almost eleven, with a proud smile. "I mean, me, Brianna, Noelle and Cristina. Even Chikako helped a little bit." She indicated her 3½-year-old sister, who gave Leslie a huge smile. "Noelle's mom did the curtain rods, but we put the curtains on them, and then she hung them up."

"What a super job!" Leslie exclaimed, grinning back. "You did great, Chikako, all five of you did. Thank you, Haruko…and Myeko too!"

"They do look good," Christian said appreciatively. "Maybe we'll have you hang the rest of our curtains too." The girls giggled; Myeko winked and patted her pregnant middle.

Maureen hung up then and grinned. "The food's on its way," she said. "Don't worry, Leslie and Christian, everything's under control. All you two have to do now is sit back and relax and enjoy your own party."

"You'll have to sit down anyway. There's a nice stack of presents for you two to open, and you might as well get comfortable," Julie said.

"Oh, geez," said Leslie, shifting in Christian's arms to meet his incredulous gaze. "We might not have to do that grocery shopping after all."

Christian had to laugh. "You might be right, my Rose! All of you, thank you so much for all you've done for us. There's no way we can repay you for this."

An hour later the food had arrived and everyone was enjoying the bountiful spread that Tomai's Catering had put out; the children, of course, finished first and tumbled out back at the behest of various parents to chase fireflies and play tag. At that point Julie got up, telling the seven-months-pregnant Myeko not to move, and tugged at Rogan's hand as she passed him. "Come on, Callaghan, let's play Santa here."

"It's June, lass," Rogan reminded her.

"Oh, so what? I bet Leslie and Christian feel like it's Christmas," Julie retorted cheerfully, lifting a few gifts in her arms at once. "Here, I'll give Leslie the housewarming stuff, and you take Christian his birthday presents." Rogan pretended to grumble, but willingly toted wrapped parcels over to an increasingly bewildered Christian while Julie piled up boxes at Leslie's feet.

Roarke, watching their expressions, laughed. "Why the disbelief?" he asked. "As a matter of fact, Leslie, I have a little something for you as well." He arose and placed another box in her hands; this wasn't wrapped, and Leslie shortly realized that the reason for this was that it contained most of the things she had meant to bring over from the main house. She shook her head at him.

"There you go again, Father, reading my mind," she said, drawing a collective laugh. "Thank you for doing that for me. I never got around to it."

Another hour slipped away while Christian and Leslie unwrapped presents; Leslie was amazed at the variety of items she unearthed, everything from a slow cooker (from Julie) to a collage-style photo frame (from Camille) to a garden hose and sprinkler (from Nick). Rogan contributed a bonsai tree, and Grady and Maureen together had presented the Enstads with a round mirror framed in silver.

Christian, despite his apparent wish to downplay his birthday, was nonetheless delighted at his gifts, most of which were computer-related. The only exceptions were from his wife and father-in-law: Roarke, to the shock of both Christian and Leslie, gave them the spare keys to the rover they had been using for the last few months, telling them to keep the car for their own. And Leslie gave Christian two bottles of the extremely unusual cologne he preferred, stunning him. "Where did you get this?" he demanded.

"I had a little help from a certain niece," she said, grinning. "I noticed you were close to running out, and thought you might like some more."

"But…this is nearly impossible to get!" Christian protested. He caught sight of the curious expressions of their friends, and explained, "It's custom-blended in Paris; my father used it exclusively, and my grandfather before him. Neither of my brothers liked it, but I found it preferable to anything on the general market, so I started wearing it as well. Just before Arnulf accepted Rogan's business contract and told me I was free to marry Leslie, I had ordered one more bottle, and it arrived the day before I departed Lilla Jordsö. I had resigned myself to having to find something else, and now my wife presents me with enough to last me till my next birthday. Leslie, my Rose, I can't believe you managed to pull off that little stunt. Didn't Anna-Kristina tell you that I always had to make a trip to the company that manufactures this, in person, whenever I needed more? They refused to deal with me in any other way. You must have had help from your father."

"I had nothing to do with it, Christian," Roarke assured him. "In fact, I admit to being impressed myself. I recall hearing about that company through Tattoo, years ago. Whatever you did to obtain that cologne, Leslie, I sincerely hope you can continue to do it, lest your husband be forced to settle for something inferior." Everyone laughed.

"This is amazing," Christian said, sighing and surveying the wealth of gifts around his and Leslie's feet. "I don't know what to say. A mere 'thank you' seems so little."

"It's enough," Maureen said. "Just knowing you two appreciated our help and the things we chose for you was plenty of reward. We saw your faces whenever you opened a new present."

"You got it," Myeko agreed. "Although I guess we ought to apologize for not filling up your pantry."

Amid the laughter, Leslie rolled her eyes. "Hey, we've got to do something for ourselves, don't we. You're the best, all of you, and we'll never forget this. You turned this into a real event, something for us to look back on and smile about."


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- June 25, 2001

In the wake of repeated thanks, many hugs and handshakes, and effusive good wishes and goodbyes, the party slowly broke up and their guests started cramming themselves back into the vehicles in which they'd arrived. Grady, telling Roarke to stay a little longer, offered to give rides to anyone who needed them. By nine everyone had left for home, leaving Christian, Leslie and Roarke surveying the gifts, boxes and discarded wrapping paper scattered around the floor. "Oh, goody, here comes the fun part," said Leslie jokingly. "Cleanup time."

"Did someone give us a garbage barrel, by any chance?" Christian kidded and grinned at their laughter. "Just thought I'd ask. Maybe we'd better start by putting away that leftover food before it spoils. It should keep us going until we can finally make that trip to the grocery that we keep talking about."

"If you two will take care of that, I'll dispose of the wrappings for you," Roarke said. "After that I think I had better return home for the evening. It seems to me that you two have made an excellent start in your new home."

Leslie nodded, following Christian to the kitchen. "Maureen had asked me if Christian might appreciate a party for his birthday, especially if we happened to be in here by then, and I told her to go ahead. But she never so much as hinted that she was throwing the housewarming in along with it. She couldn't have known we were going to be moving in today, and I have to give her a lot of credit."

"I think some luck was involved as well," Christian said. "I would have—" The phone rang just then, rudely cutting him off. "What on earth…?"

Leslie cast him a glance over her shoulder. "Would you get that, my love?" she asked. "I've got an armful here."

Christian paused just long enough to see the truth of this, grinned at the four trays she was trying to balance in her arms, and picked up the receiver. "Enstad residence." He fell silent; after about five seconds his eyes went huge and he let out a sharp exclamation in _jordiska_ that brought Roarke in from the living room and made Leslie turn around to stare at him in alarm. _"Va' sade du då? Vent nu, långsammere, jag forstår inget du säger…"_ His voice trailed off and he just stood gaping into space; Leslie, the trays in her arms forgotten, watched with increasing worry. Roarke, seeing one slipping, managed to distract her long enough to help her get them in the refrigerator. Their movements caught Christian's eye and, as Roarke closed the refrigerator door, he extended an arm to Leslie. She immediately went into his embrace, staring anxiously on and wrapping both arms around him while he huddled her close and went on listening. Finally he asked a question in _jordiska_ and shook his head at whatever answer he got.

Leslie looked at Roarke, who waited in solemn silence, and bit her lip. "I wish I could understand the language," she said softly. "It doesn't sound like good news, though."

"No, I believe you're right, my child," Roarke agreed with concern. "We'll merely have to wait for Christian to tell us."

A minute or so later Christian gave what sounded like reluctant assent and ended the call, drawing Leslie fully into his embrace. "That was Anna-Kristina," he said.

"I figured it might be, partly because you were speaking _jordiska_…but what would she be calling here for?" Leslie asked. "It's bad news, my love, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Christian said through a long sigh. "It's Arnulf: Anna-Kristina says he had a heart attack last night and is in the hospital now, in critical condition."

"Oh my God," said Leslie softly, shocked.

Roarke crossed the room to them and regarded Christian with penetrating dark eyes, as if assessing him. "Christian," he said after a moment, "if I am intruding, please say so; but I suspect your emotions are extremely complicated in regard to this, and I think it best if you talk them out. Did Anna-Kristina inform you of the prognosis?"

"Well, from what I understand, it doesn't look very good," Christian said, looking up with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. "Mr. Roarke, my brother might very well die, and I'm ashamed to admit that I don't even know how I should feel about it."

He seemed surprised when Roarke nodded slowly. "I see," he said.

"Do you?" Christian wondered, without rancor. "I know I've complained in the past about Arnulf's longstanding habit of controlling my life. This has gone on far longer than he has been king, actually. My father had much the same tendency, and when he developed Alzheimer's disease and could no longer function, Arnulf apparently decided it was his responsibility to continue the tradition. When Johanna died, I moved out of the castle in the hope that it would make a statement to them that I wanted to live my own life, free of their suffocating rein. It was lost on both of them, unfortunately; in fact, if anything, it merely intensified their efforts. It was a never-ending battle, with my father and then my brother on one side and me on the other. And as I'm sure both you and Leslie can imagine, I built up a great deal of resentment over the years."

"Which has turned into something dangerously resembling dislike, if not outright hatred," Roarke added quietly. "Am I correct?"

Christian lowered his head and tightened his hold on Leslie. "Yes," he confessed in a nearly inaudible voice, after a long pause. Leslie rested her head on his shoulder and hugged him more securely.

"I don't presume to judge you, Christian," Roarke said gently. "Your feelings in light of the circumstances are understandable, and whether you realize it or not, I do understand them. But you seem unusually tormented…may I ask why?"

"Because Anna-Kristina tells me that Arnulf has been insisting on seeing and speaking with me, whenever he's conscious," Christian said. "And you see, Mr. Roarke, I'm afraid I can find very little to say to him, what with the emotional barriers that have been built up over all those years." He finally looked at Leslie, who returned his gaze in a supportive silence. "She says the entire family believes I should make all haste to Lilla Jordsö, and no matter how I feel about it, they're right. I really should. But I won't go without you."

"Of course not," Leslie said. "It's all right, Christian, I'll be right there with you."

Roarke nodded. "As you should be, child. Do what you must to make the arrangements, and I'll see to it that you have seats on tomorrow morning's first charter. In the meantime, both of you, get as much sleep as you can. You'll have to be up early: the plane will depart at exactly seven o'clock. Let me know if there is anything else I can do."

Leslie, seeing Christian swallow visibly and look aside, asked, "Father, would you mind very much making flight reservations for us, all the way there? I don't think Christian's up to the effort, and…" She shrugged pleadingly.

"Of course," Roarke said and smiled for the first time, squeezing her shoulder. "I'll take care of everything. Try to get him to talk to you, Leslie, all right?"

She nodded. "I will. Thank you, Father."

"You're welcome, both of you. I am terribly sorry that your birthday has ended on such a tragic note, Christian, but do confide in Leslie. I've spent many years reminding her to air her own feelings, and I advise the same for you." Roarke waited until Christian, still looking away and now silent, nodded acknowledgement, then brushed back Leslie's hair. "As I said, try to get some sleep. I'll see you both in the morning."

In the silence that dropped after his departure, Leslie studied Christian, whose face had become a studiously blank mask. "Christian, my love, please, tell me what you're thinking," she pleaded softly. "You're starting to scare me."

"I don't know what to think," Christian admitted, meeting her gaze at last. "I don't mean to frighten you, my darling. I just…well, you see, my primary emotion at the moment is shame. I can't seem to find enough brotherly love to feel worried for Arnulf." He winced and looked away again. "Such a shock, isn't it?"

"No," said Leslie, bringing his gaze back with a start. He stared at her in amazement, and she smiled faintly. "You forget, I felt the same about Michael, only much worse." Her smile grew reluctant and self-mocking. "At least you have some shame over your emotional conflict. I didn't even have that."

Christian swallowed again, then hugged her hard; Leslie could feel him trembling. "I did forget. How stupid of me. Then you'll understand. First things first, my Rose—let's finish putting the food away, and then we'll go up to bed and I'll try to make some sense of what I'm feeling." He drew back enough to regard her with gratitude and caress her cheek with one finger. "I love you, my darling…"

"I love you too, always," Leslie said and kissed him softly. "Come on, let's finish."

They made short work of clearing the kitchen, then doused the lights and found their way upstairs, only to realize the bed was still unmade. Laughing at themselves, they went through four boxes before they found the sheets and two more before unearthing the pillows and the comforter set that Christian had shipped over. Together they made the bed, pushed boxes out of the way for later unpacking, then changed into nightwear and brushed their teeth side by side in the spacious bathroom.

Christian finished first, spat out his toothpaste and rinsed, then grinned at her in the mirror. "You look adorable with a toothbrush sticking out of your mouth," he teased.

Playfully Leslie narrowed her eyes at him and growled low in her throat, and he laughed. "I'll be waiting for you in the bed," he said and left her alone.

A few minutes later she emerged, putting out the light and dodging some more boxes on her way to the bed. "It'll be nice to get all this stuff put away," she remarked, climbing into the bed beside Christian, who had had time to drop back into his pensive mood. "Oh, my love, come over here. Tell me, please."

Christian shut off the lamp on his side of the bed and turned to her, gathering her close with an urgency that communicated itself to her in his persistent trembling. "I've been thinking…maybe it goes back to my very birth."

"What? How do you mean?" Leslie asked, perplexed.

"I wasn't supposed to be born at all," Christian said starkly, making her gasp and stare at him in the moonlight filtering through the skylight over the bed. "It's true. I was a late-marriage surprise for my parents. You see, after Arnulf was born, they aimed for a girl next, and got Carl Johan before finally being rewarded with Anna-Laura. And when she came along, they meant to stop having children. Then, a few months after her fourth birthday, they were shocked to find themselves expecting a fourth child they'd never intended to conceive. The others were reasonably close in age, but by the time I was born, Anna-Laura was five, Carl Johan eight and Arnulf ten. Not such great differences, perhaps, but there was enough of a gap that it was pretty clear that I was an unintended afterthought."

Leslie stared at him in horror, tears in her eyes. "My God, Christian, that's so awful. Did they allow you to grow up believing that? That's horrible!" She hugged him with all her strength, unable to imagine life without him and shying away from the very idea. "Christian, my love, the _last_ thing you are is an afterthought. You're important in so many lives, but most of all in mine. I can't stand to think of this world and my life without you in it." She drew back and cradled his face in her hands, searching his bleak expression. "I love you so much, Christian—it's impossible for me to grasp the idea of you not existing."

Christian focused on her and his look softened. "Don't cry, my Leslie Rose," he said gently, smiling slightly. "I can live with it. I think it explains my father's behavior towards me as I grew up—constantly trying to discipline me, as if I were completely uncontrollable." He sighed softly and rested his head against hers, slowly caressing her back. "You'll remember I told you I was incorrigible as a small child. I have a couple of hazy memories of my grandfather—King Lukas VI, who died just before I turned four. He…I think maybe he spoiled me a bit. I wasn't like my siblings, who bowed to authority with little question. I must have had a rebellious streak in me, and I seem to remember that he encouraged it. When he died, I was just old enough that it had taken root, and ever after, my father was more stern with me than the others. I guess Arnulf and he were of one mind. I remember constantly thinking to myself that those two must share a brain, since they always seemed to have the same thoughts and opinions in regard to me and the way I should behave."

"What about your mother?" Leslie asked. "You've never talked about her."

"I don't think Mother knew what to do with me," Christian said and chuckled unexpectedly. "Here she had her two well-behaved and respectful sons, and her sweet, loving, cherished daughter—and then she had this little hellion of a boy, asking why he had to do this and that all the time. But I knew she loved me. When I managed to get myself in too much trouble, or had too many painful bruises and cuts, she always got me out, bandaged me up and held me. She exercised far less discipline on me than my father did, and since he loved her, she got away with it. I'm sure that's how I managed to turn out the way I did—if not for her, I wouldn't have been the local media's 'happy prince', and I could never have learned to relate to others. And I know for certain that it was her influence on me that allowed me to feel deeply. Yet I never fell in love before I met you, do you know that?"

Once more her head came sharply back and she stared at him. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Christian assured her. "Mother taught me to love, but Father taught me to be reserved with it, purely through their respective actions. I imagine I was waiting for someone who was worth the effort of loving, who would accept me for myself and not for what I could bring them, or give them, or do for them." He rested his forehead against hers and threaded her hair through his fingers. "You were the only one who ever did that, my precious Leslie Rose, and for that alone, I love you so very much."

Her tears finally overflowed and she murmured in a shaky, fervent whisper, "I love you, Christian…" Then she kissed him, and for a long time after that their only communication was through their lovemaking.

§ § § -- June 26, 2001

Leslie woke before dawn to see Christian lying wide awake beside her, staring in the general direction of the French doors that opened out onto the deck off their bedroom. His expression was hard to decipher. When she lifted her head, he turned to her and smiled at her, filling her with relief. "Do you hear that?" he asked softly.

"What?" she queried, shifting towards him and laying her head on his shoulder.

"That noise," he said. "It sounds like some sort of bird. Listen, there it is again."

Leslie grinned at the first two notes. "Oh, that's just the night crier. Wow, it sounds like that one must have a nest in one of our trees. I've never heard one that close before."

"_Herregud,"_ murmured Christian uneasily. "It sounds…depressed. You know what I mean? Especially the final note that seems to shudder at the end of its call."

She lifted her head again and stared worriedly at him. "Christian, my love, are you going to be all right? You're really scaring me. I'd do anything for you, you know that, but I need you to talk to me. Please tell me what you're feeling."

"I still have that shame in me," he admitted, closing his eyes and resting his right arm over them. "Shame because I have a secret wish that Arnulf will get the fright of his life out of this experience. Anger at him, too, that must have been with me for so long that I stopped noticing it anymore." He lifted his arm to give her an apologetic look. "And there I was last month, preaching to you about releasing your anger over what Michael Hamilton did to you and your mother and sisters. I suppose I'll be having crow for breakfast."

Leslie giggled and grasped his wrist, maneuvering it behind her till she'd draped his arm over her shoulder. "No, I'll find you something a little more nutritious. They were good words, my love. It's just that I guess it's your turn to start listening to them." She frowned a little. "If you want my honest opinion, I think Arnulf owes you at least some explanations and a massive apology. You said Anna-Kristina told you that he keeps asking to see you?"

Christian stilled a moment, glancing away with this reminder, then looking back at Leslie. "That's right, she did, now that I remember. Maybe he got that scare I'm hoping for." He and Leslie studied each other, she with a slight smile and he with a faint hope in his eyes, before he sighed. "And I guess the only way to find out is to make that beastly-long trip to Lilla Jordsö and see the man."

"Afraid so, my darling," Leslie agreed, her smile blooming fully. She stroked his cheek with the backs of her fingers. "Don't worry, I'll be there beside you all the way. Nobody messes with my beloved husband—not even his bossy big brother."

Christian burst out laughing, and Leslie joined in with relief. "Knowing you're on my side is going to make this far easier for me," he said. "Well, let's get going, then."

They got up, made the bed and then found themselves forced to empty a few boxes in order to get dressed and pack suitcases for the trip. It was almost six by the time they made their way downstairs and had a little breakfast, sitting in the living room and watching the morning news on the television set they'd bought together the previous Thursday evening. They exchanged rueful looks when Arnulf's heart attack turned out to be one of the prominent stories of the day. "I guess that means we're going to be recognized again, all the way over there," Christian grumbled. "I wish I could somehow go back to being the anonymous prince with his quiet little life. What happened to change that?"

"You fell in love with me and then got prevented from marrying me, and it was broadcast around the world," Leslie summarized whimsically. "I have to tell you, with you being the real looker in your family, it's amazing you weren't thrown into the spotlight long before this. You should have had the attention that Prince William gets."

"I got that in my teens and early twenties in Lilla Jordsö," Christian told her, "but not really outside the country. Don't give me that skeptical look, Leslie Enstad. Tell me right now: had you ever heard of me before I came here to set up the island's website?"

He started to grin when she was forced to think back, trying to come up with some recollection of reading something about him or seeing a picture of him in a magazine somewhere. When one did occur to her and she sat up straight in triumph, he blinked, still grinning. "I saw a magazine article about your wedding to Johanna," she announced.

"Is that so?" Christian asked, enormously amused. "Where and when?"

"I was twelve and Mom had me and the twins out food shopping," Leslie said with an exaggeratedly smug look. "Some celebrity-obsessed magazine had a picture of you and Johanna on the cover, all decked out in wedding finery, and Kristy saw it in the checkout line and thought Johanna looked like a princess. At which point Kelly called her a dum-dum and said that if she knew how to read the caption, she'd see that Johanna _was_ a princess." Once more Christian exploded with laughter.

"What was your reaction?" he asked through his chuckles, lifting his coffee mug.

"I can't remember," said Leslie mischievously, which made Christian set the mug back down with a clank and half rise as if to attack. Playfully Leslie shrank back, squeaking, "I take it back, I promise!"

"You'd better!" Christian growled at her, his eyes twinkling. "Come on, tell me!"

She giggled and relented. "I was never one of those swooning teenybopper types, but I do recall thinking you were really cute. I also wondered why you weren't smiling."

"Ah, I see," said Christian, settling back into his spot on the sofa and reaching for his mug again. "Needless to say, you know the reason now, I'm sure."

Leslie nodded and moved closer to him, patting his thigh as he draped his arm across the back of the sofa behind her. "You were nineteen then, weren't you? Did your brothers and sister marry that young?"

"No, Arnulf and Kristina were married in 1970, when he was 22. Carl Johan and Amalia were married the following year, in something of a scandal since she was almost halfway through her pregnancy with Gerhard at the time. It was unusual for any royal to get publicly caught in such a situation, and it threw Carl Johan into the spotlight for the better part of the year. You probably wouldn't remember that…you were what, six then? Anna-Laura waited until she was 24, the year before she bore Cecilia." He frowned. "I was also the only one who was married off; they were all allowed to choose their spouses, even Carl Johan in the midst of his scandal. Back then he was considered the best-looking one in the family; I was a little young yet to start getting that sort of attention."

"I'd love to see pictures of you growing up," Leslie mused a little wistfully. "I always wondered if royalty kept scrapbooks and photo albums the way ordinary people do."

"Sure we do," Christian said impishly. "We just never let anyone know, because then we'd be forced to go public with our naked baby pictures and those awful school portraits that show the braces and all the acne." Laughing, they watched a little more news before shutting down the set and rising to get ready to leave.

Roarke came to pick them up and noticed Christian's lighter mood; he smiled at them as they got into the car. "It's good to see you both looking so optimistic," he said.

"Mostly it's a distraction," Christian said, "but a welcome one for all that. We were joking around a bit while we watched the news. Arnulf's heart attack seems to be one of the bigger stories of the moment."

"That's characteristic of celebrity news," Roarke said. "Before you begin to fret about being spotted by the media, let me reassure you that you'll be seated first class on all your flights, and will be met and escorted between gates each time you must change planes. It should help to ease your travel."

Christian smiled with gratitude. "We both truly appreciate that, Mr. Roarke," he said. "I have my mobile phone with me so that I can notify Carl Johan when we land in London and let him know to meet us at the airport near Sundborg. The local media will be worse than the rest of the world combined, if I'm not mistaken."


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- June 25, 2001

Many hours later, at Lilla Jordsö's lone airport, Christian and Leslie were warned by a flight attendant to remain seated for a few minutes. By then even Leslie's hopeful mood had dissolved into grumpiness born of fatigue; Christian's temper was on a short fuse and he had to work at controlling it. Even flying first-class hadn't entirely prevented the persistently curious from finding excuses to stop by their seats and do everything from offering shy greetings to asking intrusive questions. It was Christian's birthday all over again: just after leaving Fantasy Island, they'd crossed the International Date Line, and early on Christian had made a wisecrack about getting younger instead of older. Their levity had long since vanished, and now Leslie turned to Christian when the flight attendant left them and remarked, "I think your birthday was better on Fantasy Island."

"No question about that," Christian agreed, scowling. "I'd like to know what they have in mind to get us to the usual official car without being trampled to death."

His answer came a few minutes later when a small contingent of airport security officers boarded the plane and ushered Leslie and Christian off. Two walked in front of the couple, two behind, and one on either side, neatly surrounding them. "What about our luggage?" Leslie whispered nervously to Christian.

"That will be delivered to the car," Christian replied, finding her hand and making a point of interlacing their fingers. "Don't worry, my Rose, I'm used to this. Just follow my lead, and you'll be all right." He winked at her, and she smiled.

They were promptly recognized, and all around them people called out greetings to Christian and peered curiously at Leslie. Christian responded to a few, but he noticed Leslie's growing uneasiness and said, "They know who you are, but you've not been properly introduced to our people since we don't live here. I have a feeling we're going to be corralled for an interview at some point during our stay."

"Don't you hate it?" Leslie asked as they and their wall of security guards walked out of the building through a door off-limits to the public and across the tarmac toward a long black car that sat idling in the summer sun. "I mean…it's just so…"

"It's a hassle, yes," Christian said, "but it's part and parcel of being a prince. As I said, just follow my lead. Right now we don't have to worry about it; we just arrived and we'll need to regroup, then meet the family at the castle tomorrow morning. That's when we'll all present a united front to the media and try to deal with their questions."

Waiting for them inside the car were Carl Johan, Gerhard and Liselotta; the two men greeted Christian and Leslie with warm smiles. "It appears you outsmarted the media after all," Carl Johan observed. "Everything went right on schedule. Security did its job perfectly."

"It did at that," Christian agreed. "If the press knew we were arriving, they didn't get out here in time to catch us. So what's the latest news?" His already-solemn expression became guarded and chilly.

"There's no change in Uncle Arnulf's condition," Gerhard said. "He's usually unconscious, but when he's awake, all he does is ask if you've arrived yet. Each time he wakes and demands to see you, he's a little weaker."

Christian absorbed this in silence, and Carl Johan and Leslie both watched him. After a moment Carl Johan looked at his sister-in-law. "Anna-Kristina told us she called you last evening," he said. "How did Christian take it?"

"It stirred up a lot of mixed feelings," Leslie told him softly, still not entirely at ease. "I think it's going to be an ordeal for him."

"_If_ I see him," Christian said shortly. Carl Johan sighed, with a look that suggested Leslie was in for a siege, and said something to his son and daughter-in-law in _jordiska_. Liselotta replied softly, surprising Leslie, who had never heard her speak till now. She offered a tentative smile, and Liselotta smiled back, a little shy but with a genuinely friendly look.

"She doesn't speak English," Gerhard explained with a smile. "Not that she wouldn't like to, but her family is still leery of the outside world and most of the Liljefors clan speaks little or nothing other than _jordiska_. When the baby is born she'll start taking classes."

"Baby?" Leslie echoed, lighting up. "You're expecting a baby?"

"In November," said Gerhard, nodding proudly. Christian raised an eyebrow, offered a quick smile to augment Leslie's congratulations, and then shut down again. Only Liselotta seemed to notice the fact that he caught Leslie's hand again and clung tightly to it.

They soon entered the city proper, and Leslie watched streets and buildings slide by outside the windows, trying to see if she recognized anything from her trip there almost eight years before. Nothing looked even remotely familiar, and the silence in the car was beginning to unnerve her, not to mention Christian's unusual reticence. Her only reassurance came from his stubborn grip on her hand. In truth, she was equally loath to let him go; here on his turf, she felt lost, and he was her anchor, the only familiar thing in this strange world. She began to wish they were back on Fantasy Island.

The car pulled into a garage and descended below street level, then stopped in front of an elevator. "This is where we get out," Gerhard said, primarily for Leslie's benefit. _"Far,_ do you plan to stay or return to the castle?"

Carl Johan hesitated a moment, took in Christian's forbidding expression and Leslie's open nervousness, and said, "I think I'll stay. Your uncle's off in some other universe, and your aunt looks a bit frightened. If you and Liselotta will take care of the evening meal, I'll see if I can draw them out a little."

Gerhard nodded, spoke low to Liselotta and helped her out of the car. Carl Johan followed, and Christian came to life enough to release Leslie and usher her out ahead of him. Once outside the car, he promptly reclaimed her hand, but said nothing. The elevator ride was eerily quiet; Carl Johan watched Christian and Leslie in concern. Christian seemed to be closed off, and Leslie couldn't meet anyone else's eyes, partly from nerves and partly from skittishness at Christian's black mien.

Gerhard, to his credit, tried to set Leslie at ease. "This place used to belong to Uncle Christian, Aunt Leslie," he said. "We cousins often came out here to visit him and relax a bit. Liselotta and I haven't changed it much since he sold it to us, except that we had to bring in our own furniture. You two can sleep in the room Uncle Christian had."

"That sounds good," Leslie murmured, clearing her throat and glancing around the living room as they all stepped inside. "Um…Gerhard, I hope it's not an imposition, but if you don't mind, I'd like very much to call my father and let him know we arrived safely."

"Of course, go right ahead," said Gerhard. "The telephone is in the kitchen." Leslie smiled her thanks, gave her hand a gentle tug and bit her lip when Christian immediately let go. She cast him a nervous glance over her shoulder, but he had already drifted towards one of the large windows in the room, staring out with a scowl.

In the kitchen she put through her call, and was relieved when Roarke answered. "It's good to know you're there safely, child," he said warmly. "How is Christian doing?"

"He's in a terrible mood," she admitted, "and to tell you the truth, it's scaring me half to death. They say Arnulf's gradually getting weaker and that all he does when he's awake is ask for Christian. And you can imagine what Christian thinks of that."

"Indeed," said Roarke. "I can offer only this advice, sweetheart—just be there for him. Even if he seems to be shutting you out, he still needs you, and he'll be grateful that you're at his side. He may be unable to show it just now, but trust me, he's glad for your presence."

"I hope so," she said with a sigh. "Thanks, Father…I feel better just talking to you."

"Good girl," said Roarke. "Keep me informed of your plans if you can. I'll watch the news myself when I am able, but if you and Christian find yourselves obligated to stay for very long, please do contact me."

"I will," Leslie promised. "Take care, Father, and I love you."

"Say those words to Christian, sweetheart," Roarke suggested gently. "Believe me, he will be very glad to hear them. I love you as well, child, and give Christian and his family my best wishes."

When Leslie hung up, she pushed her hands into her pockets, let her head hang and closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. For the first time, she wasn't certain that even she could alleviate Christian's torment. She stood battling back the sting of tears, unwilling to lose control in front of her in-laws, and frightened by the fact that she was nervous about going back in to face her own husband.

Then someone tentatively touched her arm and she started, sagging with some relief and embarrassment when she recognized Liselotta. She smiled sheepishly and shrugged; Liselotta grinned and said unexpectedly, "You eat?"

Leslie blinked. "You speak English?"

"Only little words," Liselotta said. "Not be afraid, Leslie, okay?"

"I'll try," Leslie said, then dredged up some of the very few Swedish words she could remember her grandmother using. _"Tack så mycket,_ Liselotta."

"You are welcome," Liselotta replied, beaming.

Gerhard came in and smiled quizzically at them. "Are you all right, Aunt Leslie?"

She shrugged. "I'll probably survive. What's happening out there?"

"They're talking a little," Gerhard said, "although it's mostly my father who's doing the talking in fact. But I think Uncle Christian really needs you, not _far."_

Leslie had to smile. "Thanks, Gerhard," she said softly, and Gerhard smiled back.

"We'll be in here if you need us. If you have to, send my father home…it might be the best thing for Uncle Christian." He grinned at her and she giggled.

Slowly Leslie ventured into the living room, still nervous and finding herself taking the chance to study the room. So this had been Christian's domain till about six months before. She tried to picture him in here and was surprised to realize that it was very hard to see him at home in this place. She became aware suddenly that the low voices had ceased, and she blinked and focused on Christian, who slouched on the long leather sofa, glaring at something only he seemed to see.

She met Carl Johan's gaze, and the older prince stood up then, shaking his head. "He's very angry," Carl Johan said quietly. "I can see his mood is frightening you, and I can't say that I blame you; I've never seen him react so to anything having to do with our brother. Is there something else I don't know about?"

"He's had some emotional trouble over all this," Leslie said, risking another glance at Christian. "It's a long story. Maybe once Arnulf finally has his chance to talk to Christian, things will get better."

"I hope you can reach him," Carl Johan said. "I doubt I can do any good; he barely speaks to me. Let my son and daughter-in-law know I've gone home, if you will." She nodded, and he bade her goodbye and took his leave.

Leslie turned then and gingerly settled onto the edge of the sofa, leaving about six inches of space between herself and her brooding husband. The intense scowl on his face nearly made her chicken out, but at the same time she realized she didn't want to leave him all alone in here. "Christian, my love?" she ventured at last.

The timidity in her tone got through to him; he turned to her and sat up with a jerk that startled her so badly she reared back. Christian saw it, and stared at her in alarm and remorse. "Leslie…oh Leslie, my Rose, I'm so sorry…please, come here." Without hesitation she nestled against him, and he held her close, trembling again. "I'm scaring you, aren't I? I just can't believe my own reactions to being here again. Maybe I could enjoy it if I didn't have to deal with Arnulf, but…" He groaned and hugged her so hard she gasped in protest, making him curse at himself and apologize a little frenetically.

"Christian, please," Leslie said, drawing back and staring at him. It was fear _for_ him, rather than _of_ him, that drove her now. "It's all right, my love, it's all right. I told you I'm here for you, and that won't change. I love you, Christian, don't forget that."

"I'm glad someone does…I'm beginning to hate myself," Christian muttered.

Shocked, Leslie shook her head at him. "Christian, my darling, look at me, please." She waited till he had finally focused on her before speaking again. "Don't torture yourself like this. You're entitled to be angry and confused. After Arnulf's mostly given you the cold shoulder all these years, and tried to control every aspect of your life, and even used you to get what he needed for himself without thinking of the effect on you…don't you see? It's not a crime to be as conflicted as you are. Maybe you don't owe him anything, and I'm inclined to agree. But on the outside chance that he wants to make his peace with you, don't you think it's worth giving him the opportunity?"

"Do you really think that's what he wants to do?" Christian asked doubtfully.

"The only way to find out is to go see him," Leslie said. "I promise, my love, I'm not going to leave your side for a minute—not unless you tell me to." She was encouraged when he unexpectedly cracked a tiny, sour smile, just for a second or two. "I know there's still that shame in you, but trust me, my love, you wouldn't be the first person who can barely tolerate a sibling. The only shame would be if you refused to give him the chance to try to explain himself and extend that apology he owes you. If you can see your way clear to doing that, then you have nothing to be ashamed of at all. Do you see?"

Christian sat in silence for a moment, still holding her possessively, processing her words. Leslie waited quietly, tipping her head forward at one point and kissing his cheek; that got her another small smile. "I think," he said at last, "I'm beginning to be convinced. If you're there with me, it'll be less of an ordeal. All right, my Rose, I'll see him—but not until tomorrow. After all the traveling and the assorted shocks, and my emotions all but making me sick, I think we both deserve a break." At her nod, he finally smiled for real and gave an enormous sigh. "I also think you're too good for me, my darling."

"I am not," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm just good for you."

Christian peered at her and grinned. "You are that," he agreed. "You certainly are that. What happened to my nephew and his wife, anyway?"

"Presumably they're cooking," Leslie said, relaxing against him and resting her head on his shoulder. "I hate to say it, but I'm afraid they're going to be eating alone. I'm too tired to eat, and I know that clock over there says it's almost ten, but all that sunshine is confusing the heck out of me."

"It's midsummer," Christian told her. "The solstice has just passed and it's a time of very long days and very short nights. If you're not used to it, it'll rob you of a lot of sleep. There are so many windows in this place, I had to install blackout curtains in order to get any decent rest, and I hope Gerhard and Liselotta had the sense to leave them up. I can cope with it, but you, my poor Rose, you've never encountered this before, have you? Actually, you're in for a treat, once we've rested and had a chance to pull ourselves together." He yawned, making her immediately follow suit and prompting a soft laugh from him. "I see we're of the same mind again."

"Thank heavens," Leslie murmured, closing her eyes; she was a little lightheaded, and sleep was stealing over her in spite of herself. "I love you, Christian…"

He smiled drowsily and stroked her hair. "I love you too, my Leslie Rose."

About twenty minutes later Liselotta came in to announce that their late supper was ready, only to find Christian and Leslie sound asleep in each other's arms on the sofa. Christian had rested his head atop Leslie's, and even in his sleep he still maintained a firm grip on her. She looked peaceful, very much at home in his embrace. "Gerhard?" Liselotta called.

Gerhard came out, spotted his aunt and uncle and chuckled. "They're worn out. I should have remembered that. I don't think they'll be eating tonight. If you'll put out the food, I'll tell them to go on and get some proper sleep."


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- June 26, 2001

The date had caught up with them by morning, and Leslie was long awake, roused by the unusually long summer days of this northern latitude. Nestled against a still-sleeping Christian, she listened for movement in the flat but heard nothing, and wondered what time it was and when they were expected at the castle. That led to her wondering what she was supposed to do when she finally met the king and queen, and before she knew it her mind was off and running with all sorts of petty little worries. By the time Christian stirred and blinked awake, she was in a silent frenzy.

He saw her expression and stared at her. _"Herregud_, my Rose, what a way to start a morning! What's wrong?"

"I don't know any of the protocol," she said, staring frantically back. "I don't know what to wear, what to do when I meet your sister-in-law, whether I should bow or curtsy or kowtow or something…and what about when we go to see Arnulf? What's he going to expect from me? Oh God, Christian, I'm not cut out for all this pomp and circumstance!"

Christian hoisted himself up on one elbow, already shaking his head in the attempt to quiet her, but it went to no avail and he finally had to cover her mouth with his hand. "All right, my Rose, that's enough," he said gently. "You're wasting far too much time and energy over silly little things. We really aren't that formal, for the most part. Arnulf may be another story, but even he doesn't require that you bow and scrape in front of him. Don't you remember what I told you yesterday? Just follow my lead and you'll be fine."

"But he's your brother," Leslie persisted. "You probably don't have to do any more than maybe nod your head at him or something. He's never met me and as far as he's concerned, I'm just this little commoner. I don't even think he's going to like me."

Christian laughed softly. "My Leslie Rose, you're priceless. Listen, I tell you what: if there's anything that may require a little extra deference, I'll let you know in advance and tell you what you should do. If worse comes to worst, when we meet the others at the castle later, I'll explain the situation and we'll give you a quick coaching session. We'll get those rough edges polished off you yet, my darling." He winked and added with mock ferocity, "In any case, you're no mere commoner, not anymore. You're my wife, and if Arnulf doesn't respect that, he doesn't get the privilege of my time. It's just that simple. Now, let's get up and find you something to wear. A dress might be a good idea in your case, and I'll just wear what I might normally wear to work, including the tie. We have a session with the media, like it or not, and we tend to turn out slightly more formally for that."

She sighed softly. "Okay, that I can handle. But I admit to being more than a little scared of meeting Arnulf."

"I'm not exactly thrilled about it myself," Christian remarked, "but it seems to have turned into a necessary evil. Whatever happens, we stick together—right? We're going to see each other through this. This is the sort of situation that brings to mind the vows we made to each other back in January. We both promised to stand by each other, and that's precisely what we're going to do, aren't we?"

"You got it," Leslie said, mustering up a game smile.

"That's my girl," Christian said softly, smiled, then kissed her. As usual, it got beyond their control, and they were losing themselves in each other all too quickly when someone loudly cleared a throat just outside. They came apart and turned to see Gerhard grinning at them from the doorway.

"I just thought you'd like to know that we're going to be eating at the castle," he told them. "If it were up to me, I'd let you do whatever you like…but the world is demanding otherwise. Sorry to bother you."

Christian sighed good-naturedly. "It seems to me that you and Anna-Kristina understand us better than anyone else, other than Mr. Roarke. Give us an hour, Gerhard, and we'll be ready to leave." Gerhard nodded and retreated.

Christian and Leslie shared their shower in order to save time, even though it wasn't easy for them to keep from being distracted, and swiftly dressed; then Leslie hastily applied Liselotta's blow dryer to her hair to get it ready faster, while Christian watched, rubbing his own glossy dark hair with a hand towel. Then, as Leslie was putting the dryer away, she suddenly turned to Christian with a panicky look. "What about makeup?"

"I don't need any," Christian said immediately, and received a supremely dirty look for his effort. Grinning, he relented. "All right, my Rose, turn off that killing look. Don't worry about that. Anna-Laura and my nieces are good friends with a makeup artist in the city who works for our one and only television station, and they use her services whenever we're due for a press conference. They'll take care of you as well. We'd better get going."

Leslie removed the damp towel from his hand and experimentally ran her fingers through his hair. "Hmm. I hope it'll dry fast, unless you always appear on local TV with wet hair. Is that supposed to be some sort of grooming technique?"

Christian hiked an eyebrow at her. "Is that remark payback for what I said about the makeup?" She just grinned, and he rolled his eyes. "My hair will be fine, don't worry. Come on, we've really got to leave."

The four of them took the elevator back down to the garage, where this time their transportation was Gerhard's manual-transmission Peugeot coupe. The nearly-thirty-year-old prince was a competent driver and the trip went smoothly and quickly, so that before she knew it Leslie found herself staring at the Enstad family residence, known officially only as _Kungliga Slottet_, or The Royal Castle. She remembered seeing it during Gerhard and Liselotta's televised wedding the previous fall, but TV gave little hint as to sheer size. It must have been at least an acre of building, sitting on the very coast itself and with no other building in sight from any of its many windows. The curving coastal road on which the building was located turned well away from the sea view for a good mile or more in order to make room for the castle grounds and the long circular drive that served as its entranceway. She gaped speechlessly while Gerhard pulled around the drive and stopped his car under the portico, which looked slightly less forbidding than the edifice it fronted, covered as it was with a softening carpet of moss. Christian caught Gerhard's eye in the rearview mirror and gave his head a quick jerk in Leslie's direction, grinning broadly; Gerhard grinned back and, along with Liselotta and Christian, eyed Leslie with great interest as they stepped out of the car and started for the large, ornate door.

Inside the massive, three-story entry hall, Leslie's mouth dropped open and her eyes doubled in size at the sheer volume of space it took up. In slow motion she let her head fall back as far as it would go, gawking at the ceiling far overhead. By now Christian was barely able to hold back his laughter, and Gerhard and Liselotta were looking on with sympathetic amusement. Finally Christian asked, with contrived casualness, "Well, what do you think, my Leslie Rose?"

She stared dubiously at him. "Do you really want me teaching Liselotta words like that?" she shot back, at which Christian utterly lost control and shouted with delighted laughter. Gerhard joined in; the noise they made brought several figures out of a doorway at the opposite end of the entry. One detached itself from the group and ran headlong for the newcomers.

"Uncle Christian! Aunt Leslie!" yelled Anna-Kristina happily, nearly colliding with them and trying to hug them both at once. "I'm so glad you're here!"

"Down, girl, down," Gerhard teased his cousin. "I hope we aren't late for breakfast."

"It's good to see you too, you little tornado," Christian said, staggering back a couple of steps when his niece threw herself at him and almost knocked him off his feet. "You'd think I hadn't set foot in this country in at least ten years, with that sort of reception. Be careful of Leslie, now!"

Anna-Kristina barely restrained herself; she hugged Leslie with as much enthusiasm as she had greeted Christian. "Welcome, Aunt Leslie, what do you think of our giant pile of stones, then? Breakfast was just brought into the dining room, actually…you have perfect timing. Hurry, come with me and tell me all about your new house. Now that you've moved in, I think I'm going to book a few flights and come to visit you when Pappa gets well."

"You travel too much as it is," Gerhard put in, "running back and forth between here and Arcolos all the time." He caught the look Christian and Leslie exchanged and added, "It's looking quite serious with Carlono. He really dotes on Anna-Kristina."

"It's all over the press," Anna-Kristina said and shrugged. "I expect they'll be asking questions about a lot more than Pappa's condition, and Mamma thinks we might as well make it a formal session and satisfy everyone's curiosity about all the romantic matches."

"That means us," Christian grumbled at Leslie. "It never ends. What's for breakfast, then, Anna-Kristina? We haven't eaten since that last so-called meal between New York and London, and I'm famished."

"Everything," Anna-Kristina said cheerfully. "Things Aunt Leslie would like as well. Eggs, toast, plenty of hot cereal, and enough bread, butter and ham to feed half the country. We have a little _lingon sylt_ left over from last summer, and more than enough _hjortronssylt_ as well—just got a new shipment in from Sweden."

Christian fell into step beside his wife. "She means lingonberry jam and cloudberry jam," he explained to her. "The latter especially is an Enstad favorite."

"What's a cloudberry?" Leslie asked.

"You don't really find them outside Scandinavia. I'm surprised you have to ask, since you had a Swedish grandmother. The jam is unique. You'll have to tell me what you think when you taste it. We were all raised on it." Christian followed his nephew, niece and niece-in-law through the last doorway on the right, and Leslie ventured in directly behind him, finding herself in a vast dining hall dominated by a table big enough to seat more than two dozen people. Each end of the room boasted an enormous, ornate chandelier. Quite a few of the chairs were already filled; she recognized most of the occupants, who all smiled and nodded at her in welcome. At the head of the table was the only unfamiliar face—a regal, serene-faced woman with worry in her blue eyes and her moonlight-hued hair drawn back into a bun—and Christian noticed Leslie's hesitation. "I nearly forgot. My darling, I'm going to introduce you to Kristina; she doesn't speak English, so I'll play translator if necessary. You should curtsy to her, since this is the first time you've met her. After that you need only nod your head once at each successive visit. All right?"

Nervous again, Leslie nodded wordlessly, and Christian smiled reassuringly at her before taking her hand and leading her over to his sister-in-law. Kristina saw him coming and smiled in greeting; Christian returned the smile, gave her a deferential nod in respect of her station, and in quiet _jordiska_ introduced Leslie. She curtsied as Christian had instructed her, making a note to herself to ask him to teach her some of his native tongue.

The queen spoke, and Christian grinned. "She says you're very welcome here, my Rose, and that she's happy to finally meet the woman I almost murdered Arnulf over."

Startled, Leslie did a double-take at Kristina's impish look and suddenly burst out laughing, evoking a like response in the queen and an added chuckle from Christian. The rest of the family looked around and watched curiously as Kristina grasped Leslie's hands and greeted her. Leslie smiled at her, much more at ease, and shot Christian a quick glance. "Go ahead," he said, "she does understand simple English."

"I am very happy to meet you, Your Majesty," Leslie said clearly.

"_Kalla mej for Kristina bara,"_ came the response, just similar enough to English that Leslie realized the queen was asking her to just call her Kristina. She was glad to be able to thank the queen in _jordiska_, especially when Kristina's smile widened in appreciation. The queen said something else, and Christian nodded and replied before taking Leslie's hand and leading her around the table to a couple of empty chairs on the side opposite the door.

"We may as well eat," he said, pulling a chair out for her and then seating himself beside her. "You did very well, my Rose. Kristina seems to like you very much. I knew she would, actually." He grinned smugly.

"What made you so sure of that?" Leslie wanted to know.

"She wouldn't have made that little joke if she didn't," Christian said with another chuckle. "Besides, Anna-Kristina informed me shortly after your cousin Rogan presented Arnulf with his contract that the entire family had been on my side in the matter of that arranged marriage, and that included Kristina. They simply couldn't do anything because Arnulf was the ultimate authority, and they were powerless to help."

"And Anna-Kristina said everyone was pretty much unreachable, except you," Leslie mused, remembering a conversation she'd once had with the young princess. She grew aware of Christian's perplexed look and focused on him.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"She told me once that this family was compared in the local press to the British royals—how Arnulf, Carl Johan and Anna-Laura were like Queen Elizabeth, Prince Philip and Prince Charles in their remote coolness, and you were analogous to Princess Diana in the gift you both had for connecting to the common people. I don't see that around here; they're all very warm and welcoming."

"Oh, well, that's because you're my wife," Christian said. "They know, always have known, how much I love you, and I think they understood that once I was finally able to marry you, I wouldn't tolerate any rejection of you on their part. If you were a mere subject, just another face on the street, then you'd find Anna-Kristina's assessment to be very much on the mark. It's just the way we were raised, even me. It was that streak of rebelliousness and incorrigibility in me that probably allowed me to approach people more readily." He sat back as a servant paused beside his chair to fill his plate. "Keep in mind, though, my Rose, I can't make a true connection with everyone I meet. It's nothing to do with there being too many people for me to be that personable with: it goes back to what I told you at home just before we left. I was taught to be reserved around the general public."

Leslie regarded him with a faintly uneasy air about her. "Am I going to see that again at the press conference?" she asked.

Christian looked curiously at her and asked, "What, my normal public face? Not on that large a scale, no. This isn't going to be a public conference, where anyone who happens to be in the vicinity can attend. It will be media only, videotaped for televising around the world, and broadcast live here in Lilla Jordsö."

"Live TV," Leslie said, quailing at the thought. "Oh my God."

Christian half-smiled with wry amusement, but he waited till the servant had filled Leslie's plate and moved on before he leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her lips. "You'll be just fine, my darling. And I saw that odd look in your eyes when I was explaining myself and the family a moment ago. Prince or not, I'm still your husband—both in public and in private. You broke down a wall that no one else ever breached, and when you did, I discovered the amazing joy of having one special woman in my ivory tower with me. It makes things far less lonely." He winked, and she had to laugh at the image he painted.

Breakfast was a cheerful, chatty affair, and Leslie gradually came to the conclusion that the Enstad family was far different in private from how they appeared to their subjects and the world at large. From time to time she regarded Christian as they were eating, thinking to herself that in spite of the pending revocation of his royal title, in many ways he would still and always be a prince. He was too accustomed to the trappings of royalty, and he could never really overcome his upbringing; he could only overlay it with a veneer that allowed him to seem closer to the man in the street than he truly was. Yet, at the same time, he was more accepting than royalty traditionally was, more willing to keep an open mind and a generous outlook. Christian had a foot in both worlds, and seemed equally at ease in both. Once he caught her watching him and winked at her, then grinned, and she smiled back, suddenly even more in love with him.

Eventually Kristina cleared her throat, catching everyone's attention, and spoke at some length in _jordiska_. Though he listened intently to her speech, Christian simultaneously grasped Leslie's hand in his, as if he sensed she felt set apart as the only one in the room who didn't understand the language. She squeezed his hand in gratitude and waited patiently for him to find an opportunity to translate for her.

After about a minute, Kristina concluded her speech and everyone arose. Christian turned to Leslie and slipped an arm around her, guiding her along behind the others. "We're going up one level to what we call the receiving room," he explained, "where we gather when we're facing the press on our own grounds. The local television and print media will arrive in just less than an hour, and you women will be undergoing makeup sessions in an adjacent room. As a matter of fact, my nephews will too, at least a little. They're of a generation that can more readily accept that sort of thing, especially after they were told that foundation would help them look better in harsh television lighting."

"So they're media-savvy," Leslie remarked with a little giggle.

Christian nodded, amused. "Yes, I suppose you could call it that. Not so the older men, I'm afraid. Arnulf flatly and unequivocally refused, and Carl Johan balked as well. They didn't care much how they looked on TV, apparently."

Leslie noticed his omission, deliberate or not, and asked, "What about you?"

"_Usch,"_ Christian muttered, exaggeratedly disgusted, "you had to ask." He grinned at her. "Actually, yes, I undergo the stupid foundation process too. I was of the same mind as my brothers, but because I'm the alleged 'heartthrob' in the family—in the words of some gossip columnist or other—I wasn't allowed to get away with refusing. As it turned out, it apparently helped my public image for some reason. There are days when I wonder whether I'm a prince, an actor or a rock star." They both laughed.

For the next half hour the makeup artist Christian had mentioned, along with two assistants, plied her trade on the women while the younger Enstad men waited their turn. Still not fully at ease in a crowd of in-laws with whom she wasn't familiar, Leslie kept searching for Christian, just to anchor herself. It was always a relief when she spotted him standing and chatting with various family members.

Finally released, she promptly gravitated to him, as if they were magnetized. Christian smiled and drew her into a one-armed embrace when he saw her, and switched easily from _jordiska_ to English. "You look beautiful, my Rose."

"I feel as if my face gained five pounds," she said, making him laugh.

"I can imagine. So then…Carl Johan, are you quite sure you don't want to look pretty for the camera? You realize you're going to be the only one," Christian said wickedly.

Carl Johan snorted. "I don't care," he said. "I'm fifty-one, Christian, and I've survived all these years without wearing makeup. There's no reason for me to begin now."

"The Enstads' ugly duckling," offered Gerhard, evoking laughter. Standing beside him were his younger brother Rudolf; his cousin Roald, Anna-Laura's son; and two in-laws: Axel, husband of Roald's sister Cecilia, and Elias, married to Gabriella, Arnulf's middle daughter. "Really, _far,_ it doesn't bother you to be the odd one out?"

"There are other things to worry about than whether I should wear makeup just to look good on television," Carl Johan said. "You surprise me, Christian, agreeing to it merely on the say-so of some hack writer all those years back."

Christian shrugged. "I think of it as stage makeup," he said, glancing across at the line of chairs where Anna-Laura still sat undergoing the process. One of the makeup artists was signaling at him, and he grinned. "I guess it's my turn. Come with me, my Rose, all right?" Leslie agreed readily.

At around ten minutes to eleven everyone was ready, and the media had begun to arrive, with television crews setting up lighting and cameras, stringing cable all over the place, and print journalists and photographers milling around with the TV personalities. The family, staying out of sight in the next room, could hear the chaos going on in the room where the conference was to take place, and again Leslie found herself suffering from a case of nerves. She fell silent, stubbornly sticking by Christian's side, listening to various quiet conversations in _jordiska_ around them, zeroing in on her husband's voice discoursing with his brother and sister in his own tongue. Again she wished they were back in their own home on Fantasy Island, and drifted off in thoughts of all the unpacking and decorating that waited to be done when they finally did return.

Suddenly Christian leaned down to her and said, "It's time. You need not fear a lack of knowledge of _jordiska_, because this is going to be done in English so that it can be broadcast in any country. All right?"

She nodded hesitantly. "How will I know whether to say something?"

"You'll be asked a direct question, most likely," Christian said. "Since Kristina speaks no English, Carl Johan and Anna-Laura and I will be handling questions about Arnulf. After that, I'm afraid anyone, particularly you and I, becomes fair game." He took in her dubious look. "I don't quite understand, my Rose. You were completely relaxed when we gave that interview the day after we were married. Why is this different?"

"Because it was only one person doing the interviewing, and what's more, I knew the interviewer," Leslie explained. "This time it's a whole gang of strangers."

"Ah, I see," Christian said in realization. "All right, that's fine. Just stay by my side. It will look perfectly reasonable, since Amalia will be at Carl Johan's side as well, even if she says very little or nothing." He glanced up just as the group began to file into the conference room. "Come on, my darling."


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- June 26, 2001

The younger generation gathered in a group several feet behind the chairs that had been set up for the queen, Anna-Laura, Carl Johan and Amalia, and Christian and Leslie. As these half-dozen took their seats, they all noticed the assorted media members giving Leslie a curious once-over and glanced at one another in private amusement. A middle-aged man, whom Christian identified as the director of the live television broadcast, worked his way down the line clipping small microphones to everyone's collars, then went back and gave them to Anna-Kristina, Gerhard and Liselotta as well.

Carl Johan, as the oldest of the Enstad siblings currently present, took charge. "We will begin by answering your questions regarding King Arnulf," he said formally, "and after that you may bring up whatever other topics may be on your agenda. I must remind you, however, that intrusive or rude questions will not be tolerated, and if at any time any of us feels that a line has been crossed, we reserve the right to terminate this conference without warning and without rescheduling. Am I clear?" Heads nodded, and Carl Johan said, "Thank you. Very well, you may begin when the director is ready."

As soon as the director had counted down seconds and indicated that they were on the air, an overeager-sounding woman with long blonde hair and a bit too much makeup, wearing a slightly clingy dress, spoke up. A camera was trained on her, and her manner was brisk and demanding. "Exactly how serious is King Arnulf's condition? We see, after all, that Prince Christian is here with his wife."

"The prognosis is not good," Carl Johan admitted, his voice nearly emotionless—a sign of his careful control. "We felt it best that the entire family gather at this time."

"Is he dying?" someone else asked point-blank.

"That is yet to be determined," Anna-Laura answered.

"Is he conscious?" the same reporter volleyed.

"At times," said Anna-Laura. She sounded formal and distant; Leslie wondered if this was merely a façade to hide her worry over her brother.

When the princess didn't elaborate, the reporter persisted, "Is he lucid, then?"

"Yes," Carl Johan said, "and in fact he has repeatedly requested to see Prince Christian, which is part of the reason for his presence."

"Only Prince Christian?" another voice queried in surprise.

Carl Johan looked slightly impatient. "So we are told. The only ones who have been allowed to actually see him are his wife and daughters, thus far."

Anna-Laura leaned to Kristina and said something to her; Kristina nodded and spoke in _jordiska_, loudly enough for the media to hear. For the benefit of the broadcast, Anna-Laura then translated: "Queen Kristina tells us that the king recognizes her and Princesses Anna-Kristina, Gabriella and Margareta, but has insisted that he must see Prince Christian."

"Why?" chorused at least ten voices.

"We don't know," Carl Johan said and glanced at Christian; as if acting on a signal, the question was promptly blasted at Christian.

"I don't know either," Christian said with a slight shrug. "I was informed of the king's heart attack by Princess Anna-Kristina, but there was no suggestion that he had given any reason for his wish to see me."

Glances were exchanged, and a few more questions about Arnulf were presented and answered before the topic was exhausted for lack of further information. Christian gave Leslie a quick glance, as much as if to say, _Brace yourself,_ before Carl Johan announced, "If there are no further questions regarding the king, you may move to other topics."

It was as if the assembled reporters had been waiting for this. "Prince Christian!" a barrage of voices called out, and Leslie felt her stomach drop a few stories. Christian, on the other hand, clearly took it in stride and gave a good-natured, if reluctant, grin.

"One at a time, please," he requested. "You there, in the back?"

A very young-looking woman with a yellow legal pad and pencil beamed delightedly at being singled out. "Thank you, Your Highness! Please, would you introduce your wife to us? We know so little about her, and I know the people want to meet her."

Christian laughed and turned to Leslie, his amusement shifting into something else altogether when he saw her wide-eyed, pleading look. "As you can probably see," he said to the gathering, "she's never been through one of these conferences before, and she's very nervous, so be gentle with her." He turned back to her and leaned closer to murmur, "Just be yourself, my Rose, that's all. I'll be with you if you need me." Leslie nodded rapidly, as much to dispel the shudder that shot up her spine as to convey assent. Christian took her hand, again interlacing their fingers, and said, "This is my wife, Leslie—the adopted daughter of Mr. Roarke, of Fantasy Island. Maybe you know the story after last summer's little revelation in regard to my arranged marriage to Marina LiSciola. I actually met Leslie about five years ago, just before I discovered I had been married to Marina."

"You've known her that long?" asked the young reporter, awed. Christian nodded indulgently at her and grinned, making the girl's face light up.

"It seems you have another devoted fan," Carl Johan said aloud, and everyone laughed, including Leslie. The girl went bright red but didn't stop beaming.

"You say she is Mr. Roarke's _adopted_ daughter?" the blonde TV reporter asked. "Who is she really, then?"

Leslie noticed the immediate change in Christian's demeanor; coolly he replied, "She's my wife, pure and simple. Had you meant to ask something else?"

"It's okay, Christian," Leslie said softly, aware of the sudden shift of collective attention in her direction. Christian eyed her in concern.

"You're sure?" he asked, and she nodded. "All right, then, go ahead, my darling."

"I was born Leslie Hamilton," Leslie explained, speaking carefully to try to keep the nervous tremor out of her voice. "I'm originally from Connecticut in the United States. I was orphaned when I was thirteen years old, and went to live on Fantasy Island for the lack of living relatives to go to. When I was eighteen, Mr. Roarke adopted me, and I think of and refer to him as my father." She, along with the entire Enstad family, was amused at the way the crowd seemed to hang on every word she said. "I'm also my father's assistant in his business. When Christian and I were married, Christian moved the home office of his own business to Fantasy Island, but he still maintains a branch here."

"How long have you and Prince Christian been married now?" someone asked.

"A little more than five months," Leslie said.

"Are you planning to have children?" came the inevitable query.

Leslie gnawed on the inside of her cheek, an almost automatic reaction; Christian, who had been watching, immediately took over. "Not right away. We may decide not to have children at all. That's entirely our business. In the meantime, Leslie and I are very happy together, just the two of us, and we're savoring our time with each other."

"How is it, Your Highness, that you suddenly found this woman you wanted so much?" asked a previously-unheard voice. "I'm sure you're aware that you're well-known in the _jordiska_ media for remaining emotionally untouched by any woman."

Christian shrugged. "I fell in love for the first time in my life," he said. "Don't ask me exactly how. I know only that Leslie accepted me as I am, crown and all, and no one else ever did that for me. I think that's what drew me to her."

"You were really never in love before?" asked the star-struck young girl from the back. "I mean…we all know the stories. You were married off to Johanna when you were only 19, and it was obviously a bad match from the start. And then after you were widowed, you were seen escorting Ingela Vikslund, heiress to the Vikslund oil fortune; then that Swedish film starlet, Maria Dahl." Leslie found herself watching Christian with surprise and amusement as the girl went on, "After that you were seen with the singer, Astrid Franzén, and then in 1992 you spent nearly a year dating Karin Grimsby, who is the sole heiress to the Grimsby jewelry empire here…the only local jeweler with the right to import rainbow gems." She gave a knowing nod. "I can see the ones in your wedding rings."

"Goodness, my love, you really got around," Leslie kidded gently, and then grinned when the press laughed.

"She makes it sound worse than it really was," Christian told her with a sheepish grin of his own. "It was almost serious with Karin, but in the end I knew I could never be more than friends with her. I understand she's happily married now. It's as well it worked out so, because the wait for you was very much worth it."

"Is there some reason you don't live in Lilla Jordsö?" someone asked.

"I chose to leave," Christian said. "Leslie was married and widowed once also, and that marriage took her away from her home. I saw no need to do that to her again; and in any case, I'm not exactly essential to the succession. As I'm sure you are all aware, there are nine others in line for the throne ahead of me, and it seemed reasonable to conclude that the kingdom could do without me. The government is evidently reluctant to officially end my princely status, but I'm patient. I want only to be where Leslie is, and since she is on Fantasy Island, that's where I am now."

A few more questions were put forth, inconsequential ones that Christian answered; then someone asked if it were true that Carl Johan and Amalia were due to become grandparents soon, and another ten minutes was expended on confirmation of that rumor. Then the spotlight shifted to Anna-Kristina and her very visible romance with Prince Carlono, which took up fifteen more minutes. Anna-Kristina answered all the questions herself, and was so bright-eyed and cheerful that Christian and Leslie found themselves alternately staring at her and looking at each other with some disbelief.

"Do you think she's really in love with him?" Leslie whispered to Christian at one point, taking care to avoid being picked up by the miniature microphone clipped to her dress. "I mean…look at her, all happy and smiling…"

Christian shook his head slightly and whispered back, "No, I think it's a front. But she's a princess: there'll be no hint of her true feelings for Mateo. I'm afraid we'll have to consider that a closed book and let her make her own decisions."

After that the press conference came to an end, and the family lingered long enough to let the director collect his mini-mikes before retreating to the adjacent room to wait for the media to clear out. Christian turned to Leslie and asked, "Are you all right, my Rose?"

"Thank God that's over," she mumbled and abruptly hugged him. He chuckled softly and hugged her back.

"You did beautifully," he assured her. "You had your ordeal, and you passed with flying colors." He sighed. "Now it will be my turn to endure an ordeal."

"I'll be right there with you," she reminded him, drawing back enough to smile at him. "Don't worry, my love. You're not alone, I promise."

Christian smiled back. "I think that's the only thing that gives me strength enough to face this. We'll leave in about an hour—I'll put in a request for a car to take us there."

‡ ‡ ‡

In the end, they were accompanied to the city hospital by Carl Johan, Anna-Laura, Anna-Kristina, Gerhard and Liselotta, and Gabriella and Elias. The younger princes and princesses rode in one car together, behind the one carrying Carl Johan, Anna-Laura, Leslie and Christian. Christian's mood began to slide back south once more, and Leslie grasped his hand in both of hers, earning a quick smile from him before he went back to brooding. His brother and sister watched him.

"Christian, what on earth makes you so angry about all this?" Carl Johan asked, as if satisfying a great and all-consuming curiosity. "You did this same thing yesterday when you and Leslie first arrived, and I hope you know you were really frightening her."

Christian's frown deepened and he focused on his older brother. "You can't honestly be wondering why this upsets me so," he said incredulously. "I don't know what Arnulf could possibly want with me. Leslie thinks there's a chance he wants to make his peace."

Anna-Laura leaned forward. "That was my thought as well," she said with a tremor in her voice, "but if it's true, then perhaps he's convinced he is dying."

"And if he is?" Christian shot back.

Shock radiated from Anna-Laura and Carl Johan; only Leslie understood. "You both know how Arnulf's treated Christian all these years," she said gently. "I think he suffered a sense of disbelief, of having a prolonged dream, when Arnulf set him free so we could get married. But did you know Arnulf actually ferreted out the number to our private honeymoon cottage and called us, trying to make Christian go out on yet another one of those promotional trips he spent the last couple of years sending him on?"

Carl Johan and Anna-Laura looked at each other in astonishment. "He went that far?" Anna-Laura asked. "I never thought he would do such a thing."

"Well, he did," Christian said, his frustration finally breaking loose. "I've never understood his and Father's obsessive need to control my life, almost from the day I was born. You two were left untouched, but for some reason I found restraints and discouragement everywhere I turned. I know well enough that I wasn't even supposed to exist in the first place; Father made it clear enough to me on a number of occasions as I was growing up, usually whenever I did something he considered particularly heinous. After Father's mind started to go, Arnulf took over, and I think in some ways he was even worse."

Carl Johan stared; Anna-Laura had tears in her eyes. "Father told you that?" Carl Johan demanded in a stunned voice.

"More than once, yes," Christian said stonily. "I must have put up quite the front if you two never knew about that. Didn't Mother or Father ever tell you the story, how they were trying for a girl after Arnulf was born and meant to stop once Anna-Laura came along? I was unplanned, and I suspect I wasn't a very pleasant surprise, from all I ever heard. I know I was a spirited and rebellious child, and I know I had a mind of my own and was constantly at odds with what Father and Arnulf wanted for me. But is that a reason to punish me? Or was it simply because I merely existed?"

Anna-Laura put a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, tears streaming out from under the lids. Carl Johan slowly shook his head; Leslie's eyes had filled with tears as well, partly in response to Anna-Laura's emotions and partly in empathy for Christian. "So this is what's driving you," Carl Johan said after a moment. "Tell me just one thing, Christian: do you hate Arnulf? And don't be afraid to tell the truth. Remember, Anna-Laura and I, the entire family, saw much of what he did to you, especially after he was crowned."

Christian thought carefully for a long, tense moment. Finally he looked at Carl Johan with a bleak expression and admitted, "Yes, perhaps I do…or at least I'm very close to it."

Carl Johan nodded a couple of times. "I won't ask if you think you can forgive him. It's a great deal to overlook, I know. But at least listen to what he has to say."

Christian sighed very deeply, let his head fall back and closed his eyes for a moment. "I suppose I have little choice in the matter," he said and focused on Carl Johan again. "Mind you, I'm doing this for my own sake, not Arnulf's. If that sounds selfish, I'm sorry, but I guess I'm just not big enough of soul to keep from indulging myself." He finally seemed to notice his distraught sister and reached out with his free hand to touch her arm. "For heaven's sake, Anna-Laura, don't get so upset. There was nothing you could have done."

"But it wasn't right," Anna-Laura insisted. "Truly, Christian, did both Mother and Father let you believe you were a mistake that they regretted making?"

"Father said it in so many words," Christian said. "Mother didn't, but she never contradicted Father's words, either. I believe they did regret having me."

Leslie couldn't take any more. "Stop, Christian, my love, please," she begged, beginning to cry. "I don't care what anybody else might have ever told you. You're _not_ a mistake! You're here for a reason—even if it's only because…because…where would I be if you had never been born? Don't you remember? I love you, Christian Enstad!"

Christian stared at her, stricken, then gathered her close when she broke down. "I know, my darling, I know…I'm sorry." He looked ruefully at Carl Johan and Anna-Laura and said, "I've gone and frightened her again, you don't have to tell me."

"You should listen to her, Christian Carl Tobias," Anna-Laura scolded, her own voice thick with tears. "This family wouldn't have been complete without you."

"Look," Carl Johan said, "take it out on Arnulf, Christian. If anyone has any answers, he will. Try to remember that we're behind you in this, and keep in mind that you have a true champion in that wife of yours. You finally got lucky in the marriage game, and you'd better not forget that or take it for granted."

"Are you finished lecturing me, _äldrebror?"_ Christian asked with a wry little smile, still stroking Leslie's hair and cradling her against him. "I think I've been very effectively reminded that there's a purpose to my existence, so you can stop now." He turned to Leslie then, disregarding his brother and sister, and tipped her head up till she was looking at him through streaming eyes. "I love you desperately, Leslie Enstad, and I especially love you for reminding me of my importance in your life. The next time I start feeling sorry for myself, tell me that again, as many times as you feel you must, until I remember." She nodded, and he kissed away a tear or two before shifting to her mouth and covering it with his own. She could taste the salt of her own tears in his kiss, and it prompted a few more, but she felt safe and reassured in his embrace.

When Christian pulled back, he smiled at her, his eyes warm. "I'm going to be relying on your strength, my Leslie Rose, so if you think you're done crying, let me know. You know how much it hurts me to see you cry. I'm always afraid I can't comfort you properly."

"That's silly," she said in a soft shaky voice. "You always know how to comfort me."

"You two sound like a bad romance novel," Carl Johan snorted, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated show of disgust. Christian and Leslie grinned, and Anna-Laura shot him a black look that made them burst into laughter.

"Don't listen to him; he's jealous," she said. "I know I am, and I'm not ashamed to say so. Christian, think of this love you've found with Leslie as your well-deserved reward for all you've put up with over these years, from the time Father married you off to Johanna and ever since then. And if I were you, I'd ask Arnulf every question you've ever wanted to ask him, including the ones that may be the hardest on him—for your own peace of mind."

"Believe me, I will," Christian said with quiet resolve. "And Leslie will be my witness."

Inside the hospital, the Enstads were promptly recognized and greeted with instant deference; Carl Johan asked about Arnulf. Christian listened and then translated the reply for Leslie. "They say he's been awake for some time now—he's refused the sedatives they've had him on for the last couple of days—and is still demanding to see me."

"I wonder if he saw the press conference," Leslie murmured.

"It's possible," Christian allowed. "Anna-Kristina said during breakfast that the television is on in his room every time someone comes to see him. However, from what we've been told of his condition, it's anyone's guess whether he ever sees what's on it." He slid an arm around her and addressed one of the nurses, who dropped a quick curtsy; he said, "My wife and I are here to see the king."

"_Nej,"_ she said in a firm voice, _"bara prinsen ensam. En i taget."_

Christian scowled and said, _"Jag ber att du snacker engelska for min frus skull."_ He sounded abruptly very imperial, and Leslie gave him a surprised look, which he caught. "I insisted that she use English for your sake," he explained, and she nodded.

The nurse looked at Leslie as if she had only just noticed her presence. "My apologies, Princess. But only one visitor at a time may see His Majesty: he is very weak, and since he has asked for Prince Christian, obviously no one else may go in."

Christian's expression was cold. "I won't go in there unless my wife is with me," he said flatly. "You can tell the king so. If he refuses, then he won't see me."

"But you must see him," another nurse exclaimed, looking very worried. "It is the belief of his doctors that if he does not see you, he will not recover."

"He sees me with my wife, or not at all," Christian reiterated implacably.

The nurses proceeded to argue with Christian, who occasionally repeated his stance on the matter in a frigid, quiet tone. Carl Johan shook his head and said something to Christian in _jordiska_; Christian simply shrugged, and Carl Johan went to join the younger people, who had retreated to waiting-room chairs.

Anna-Laura and Leslie looked at each other with mutual exasperation, and Anna-Laura cleared her throat loudly. "The obvious solution is to ask the king's doctors," she said. "Would someone kindly go and do so?" Two of the nurses scuttled off, and Anna-Laura eyed her younger brother with a scolding look. "Really, Christian, were you going to stand here all afternoon and argue with those nurses?"

"She has a point, my love," Leslie teased gently, and Christian rolled his eyes.

"Perhaps I was stalling," he suggested pointedly, aiming this mostly at his sister. "You know how I feel about this whole thing to begin with."

"Why don't you just get it over with?" Anna-Laura offered. "Then it wouldn't weigh on your mind so, and you'd stop having these moods and terrifying Leslie."

"I suspect Leslie is less frightened than you think she is," Christian said, "since she actually understands why I feel as I do. Whatever happens, I won't back down in this. If Arnulf won't see me with Leslie, he won't see me, _finis."_

Two doctors appeared just then, one male and one female. They greeted Christian and Anna-Laura with the requisite deferential bows; then the female doctor asked, "Exactly what is the problem?"

"Is it necessary for the king to be restricted to only one visitor at a time?" Anna-Laura wanted to know. "Christian won't see him unless he can bring his wife in as well, and there's no changing his mind."

"The king is weak, and it's not good for him to be excited," the male doctor said.

Christian cursed in _jordiska_. "I find that ridiculous, if you must know the truth," he said. "Due to the strained relationship between me and my brother, I doubt he'd find it any less exciting to see me alone than with Leslie. I tell you for the last time: if Leslie can't come with me, then Arnulf doesn't see me." He saw the doctors look at each other and added, "I think perhaps you'd better see what the king himself says."

The man nodded at the woman, and she promptly left. In the silence that followed, Leslie pressed her head against Christian's and whispered, "That nurse called me Princess. Am I really entitled to that, or is it just formality for your sake?"

"The government hasn't revoked my title yet," Christian replied, amused, "and as long as that's the case, you're a princess simply because you're married to me. I'd tell you not to get used to it, but you never know with the government."

Leslie laughed. "True! But even at that, I doubt I'd ever get used to it. It made me wonder who she was talking to." Christian chuckled in response and settled his stance, his arm still securely around her shoulders.

The doctor returned about thirty seconds later and peered at Christian, half apologetic, half disapproving. "King Arnulf has agreed to let your wife accompany you, Your Highness. In fact, he said it was all the better, for he wishes to meet Princess Leslie."

"Very good, thank you," Christian said, the imperial mien back on him like a cloak. "Will you kindly escort us to my brother's room?" The doctor nodded and led them off down a long hallway in which Christian's and Leslie's footsteps echoed slightly off the walls and ceiling. The last room on the left was Arnulf's; the doctor opened the door long enough to let them step inside, then pulled it shut behind them.


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § -- June 26, 2001

For a long moment neither Christian nor Leslie moved. Christian stared silently at his brother lying still in the hospital bed, with his eyes closed, his face very pale and drawn, looking startlingly frail. Leslie, for her part, remembered the few glimpses of Arnulf she had caught on TV in the past and found herself amazed at how small he looked now. She looked up at Christian, who saw her movement in his peripheral vision and met her gaze with a small smile.

"So you have finally come," said a thickly-accented voice, and Christian and Leslie turned as one to see Arnulf watching them. "Come and sit down, _lill'bror_, you and your wife both. Introduce her to me."

Christian sighed, just loudly enough for Leslie to hear, and rounded the bed, pulling one of two chairs up to the bedside and settling into it as if for a long siege. Leslie took care to place the second chair directly beside Christian's, sitting at his right so that Christian was closer to the head of the bed. Arnulf watched every move they made, right down to Leslie's reaching out with her right hand and grasping Christian's right hand, then resting her left hand on her husband's back. Christian glanced at her over his shoulder with another smile, which she returned.

"Introduce her to me," Arnulf said again, his voice impatient for all its thready weakness. The cold expression settled over Christian's features again, and when he spoke, his voice matched his look.

"This is my cherished wife, Leslie," he said, "and my darling, this is my oldest brother, King Arnulf II." Leslie paid her respects with a partial bow from her seated position, which movement Christian took in with a scowl, as if he begrudged such deference to his brother on anyone's part. "Take a look, Arnulf, at what you tried so hard to rob me of."

"My love," Leslie said very softly, "don't go on the defensive so fast."

"It's hard not to," Christian said a little plaintively, staring at her over his shoulder again. "This whole thing is difficult for me, you're well aware of that."

"I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere," Leslie assured him, finally getting another smile from him. He tipped aside and dropped a kiss on her mouth.

"You truly are in love with her," Arnulf said, as if astonished, and they looked around to see that he'd been watching them intently.

Christian gave him an incredulous look. "Of course I am…why do you think I was so miserable during the years with Marina?" He sighed again, gustily, and slumped a little in the chair with an air of resignation about him. "Look, Arnulf, I've been told ever since I first learned of your heart attack that you've been insisting on seeing me. Well, I'm here. What do you want with me?"

Arnulf regarded Christian and Leslie in silence for at least a full minute while they waited, both returning his stare—Christian in an expectant, chilly silence, Leslie in quiet curiosity. Gradually the king's features grew strangely wistful, regret gleaming from his eyes and his thin lips stretching into a slight, self-mocking smile. "I realize you have come here from the other side of the world on my command," he said. While his English was fairly heavily accented, he spoke it well, if formally. "I wish to thank you for doing so. I do have my reasons for asking you to come. I wonder, Christian, if you can find it within you to let me explain myself, or if I have done too much damage."

Christian's grip on Leslie's hand tightened. "I'm listening," he said guardedly.

"I can barely remember anything after I first felt the pain of the attack," Arnulf said, his gaze straying to some point on the ceiling. "I woke here in the hospital, and my chest was still very painful, and my senses were not working properly. Everyone spoke in hushed voices around me and used only soothing words when speaking directly to me. That is when I understood how bad my condition was, and I knew then that I was dying." He looked at Christian, whose face was now clear of all expression, and seemed to be waiting for some sort of reaction. When it didn't come, he looked away again. "Ah, perhaps I deserve that.

"Christian, I am sure you know all too well that you were a surprise to the family. I well remember the day Mother learned she was expecting you. At first she didn't quite know what to think. She had the daughter she and Father had been trying to get, and there were no plans for further offspring. Then she thought it might be nice to have a second daughter, a sister for Anna-Laura. When you were born, it was another shock to them to get a third son. They were simply not prepared for you."

"They didn't want me, you mean," Christian broke in tightly.

Arnulf's gaze came back to Christian's with a jerk. "So you were told, then. Father never minced words with you…I remember that also. You were very different from the rest of us, Christian, not at all like us…Leslie, you have a phrase for this, do you not?"

"The black sheep of the family?" Leslie suggested doubtfully. It didn't seem to fit Christian, but she couldn't think of anything else.

"Yes, exactly. So it seemed, at least. Father was a slave to tradition and formality, and raised us to be much the same. I certainly followed his lead, I can see that now as I look back. Carl Johan and Anna-Laura did too, perhaps less so, but without complaint. But you, Christian, you fought it with every breath, I believe. From the time you could walk and speak, you had a mind all your own and a strong streak of independence. If you had not looked clearly like an Enstad, Mother often said, she would have wondered if her baby had been switched with another in the hospital.

"Mother tended to indulge you. Perhaps that came from a scare we had when you were about three months old. A servant managed to infect you with pneumonia, and in an infant the disease can be especially dangerous. You spent two weeks in the hospital, and it badly frightened Mother. Anna-Laura cried a great deal…she had become very attached to you. But Father thought it might be for the best, if you didn't happen to recover…"

Christian cursed sharply, and Leslie winced, sliding her arm protectively around his shoulders and shaking her head. "Did your father actually hate him?" she demanded.

Arnulf looked pleading. "Mother's pregnancy with Christian was difficult," he said, "and Father felt it never should have happened. She was just past forty at the time and in those days, pregnancy at that age was thought to be medically inadvisable. For some time the family was a little undecided about Christian's arrival; then he contracted pneumonia, as I said, and Mother realized she wanted him after all. I believe she indulged him partly to offset Father's unusual sternness with him, and partly from remorse over her initial wish that she had not borne him. She followed Grandfather's lead: Grandfather found Christian a source of great entertainment and tended to encourage his escapades, until he died just before Christian's fourth birthday." Arnulf sighed. "Father did not hate Christian, Leslie. Please do not misunderstand me. It was only that Christian showed independence almost from the very beginning, and he was unable to understand or accept that; so he did not know how to deal with it."

"So he turned into a dictator with me," Christian said, his voice glacial now. Leslie shot him a worried look; he seemed almost combative, and she could glimpse the pain he was struggling so hard to hide at this new revelation.

"Yes, I am afraid you are right," Arnulf agreed quietly. "I, for my part, always approved of the disciplinary measures he took with you…but you see, Christian, that is only because I was envious of you. In my secret heart I wished for that same independence and the courage to show it. You got away with more because you were the youngest, with fewer expectations. I was destined to be king one day and must therefore be groomed for the position, so I must needs conform to Father's wishes. That was my thinking.

"And you had that stubborn independent streak all through your childhood and adolescence. I watched you develop certain coping mechanisms as you grew older. You adopted a formal mien with Father, learned to adapt to him and his demands just enough to keep him satisfied, most of the time. Occasionally you rebelled and incurred Father's wrath, as you certainly must recall, and Father would wonder what he was to do with you.

"For some reason you withheld your deepest emotions. You were most open with Mother, I think, and then around Anna-Kristina after she was born; but I can recall that even with them, you were still somewhat reserved. You must have sensed from some very early point in your life that your existence had been debated, and perhaps that taught you not to put complete trust in anyone to fully accept you."

Christian looked unwillingly impressed. "You seem to know me well."

"I saw it all, Christian," Arnulf said. "We were all raised to be distant, formal, regal, as befitted our stations in life. You were easier to reach, somehow. Mother must have left her mark on you, for you were generally a happy child, and you had the ability to love all along. But even so long ago, it was plain that it would take someone very special to unlock that ability. So here you were, a walking contradiction. You were able to make the connection to our people that the rest of us could not quite manage, yet you were always careful to hide away a part of yourself. Father and Mother watched you grow into adolescence without expressing crushes on any of your female classmates, or showing interest in girls in general, and Father began to think you must be…" He paused.

Christian started to laugh sardonically. "He thought I was gay, didn't he?" he guessed. At Arnulf's nod, he shook his head, still laughing. "That explains quite a bit to me, now that you tell me this. That's why he chose Johanna and pushed me into marriage to her, despite the fact that we didn't suit at all—isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Arnulf confirmed. "What, then, was the true reason?"

"I was a prince," Christian said, as if it should have been obvious to any and all. "My title always seemed to get in the way of things. The older I grew, the more aware of my royal status my classmates became, in the way of children who know no better and then become teenagers who are relentlessly conscious of social hierarchy. As a prince, I stood alone. Girls either were intimidated by me, or showed interest in me solely for the bragging rights I could provide them. Don't you think that would discourage anyone in such a position?"

Arnulf nodded faintly. "Yes, I see your point," he said quietly. "In any case, Father thought throwing you at one particular girl would 'cure' what he thought were homosexual tendencies, and thus you were married at the age of nineteen. Most of us saw what a mistake it was from the day of the wedding. Johanna was cold and aloof, and it was plain that you two had nothing at all in common. Father came to me once and wanted to know, in light of the fact that you and she kept separate bedrooms, whether you had ever consummated the marriage." He saw Christian's disgusted look and smiled slightly. "No one ever knew; you certainly would not speak of it, and Johanna never did either."

"Most likely because it would have cast an unfavorable light on her, that despite her beauty, her husband wanted nothing to do with her," Christian remarked. "Not that it's any of your business, of course. If Leslie asks, I'll tell her, but she's the only one."

"The secret that will go with you to your grave, I see," Arnulf said with unexpected humor. "In any case, when Johanna was killed in that train wreck, it left you unaccounted for, in Father's words. You still showed no interest in any one woman, and he could not let the problem rest or work itself out. It just so happened that Grandfather's contract for the family's supply of amakarna was coming due for renegotiation, and it further just so happened that Count LiSciola had social-climbing tendencies. He had daughters, one of whom was mentally ill, the other a mere child. But that did not matter a whit to Father. When the count demanded that his five-year-old girl be married to a member of the family, Father saw an immediate and convenient solution to The Problem, as he used to call it. And that is why he offered you, rather than Gerhard or Rudolf. He did not mind that it would be a long wait before Marina was old enough to marry. All that mattered was that you would be properly wed to a woman."

Christian was shaking his head. _"Herregud,"_ he muttered. "I don't know what to say."

"Little wonder," Leslie murmured sympathetically. "There's not much you _can_ say to something like that, my love." Christian nodded rueful agreement, and Leslie looked at Arnulf. "What about the women Christian was seen with between his first two marriages? What did your father say to that?"

"He expressed relief that Christian at least appeared not to be homosexual after all," Arnulf confessed. "But the contract was signed and irrevocable, so he decided to take it as a sign that marriage to Marina would work out as it had not with Johanna. Father died believing he had done the right thing."

"It seems you believed it too," Christian observed, his voice again taut with resentment. "After all, you're the one who enforced the damned contract when Marina came of age—and your timing was exquisitely bad, for when you did marry me to that girl, I had finally fallen truly in love. Had you been patient…"

"The contract was irrevocable, Christian, as I have just said," Arnulf protested, sounding strangely defensive. "Even if you had come to me or Father years earlier and stated that you were deeply in love and wished to marry, you would still have been bound by it."

"I'll never understand that," Christian said icily, "since when Father pushed me into that arrangement, I was of age and should have been allowed to decide for myself. Instead, he went behind my back and then conveniently forgot to tell me about it. When I had just met Leslie and was still getting to know her, and you called telling me I was to return here and honor the contract, I had no idea what you were talking about. I said as much, and you didn't believe me. No one ever told me about it, Arnulf, and I saw it as yet another form of control. Which brings me to the real subject: why you have always treated me as a pawn. I recall Marina phrasing it as my being a toy that you played with when you were in the mood, and threw in the corner when you weren't. Is that, too, born of your so-called envy of my independent spirit?"

Arnulf looked drained. "Yes, now that I think of it, I believe so," he said with a resigned sigh. "Perhaps the one act that conveyed that spirit to Father beyond all doubt was when you completed your military service after Johanna's death and came back, only to announce that you had rented a flat in the city and intended to move out on your own. Father did not believe you at first; he did not realize that you had gained interest in and skill with computers while you were serving, and was convinced that you would be back in less than a month because you did not know how to do anything. When it was clear to him that you meant it, and that you were making a success of life on your own, he informed you that you would henceforth have no access to the royal treasury. I saw this as only fair, and if the truth is to be known, I still believe this."

"That's perfectly fine," Christian retorted. "I don't need the royal coffers; my business is doing very well. In fact, I knew when I started my service that when I came home, I'd be moving out anyway. It was always my intention to make my own way, Arnulf."

"That was too much independence for Father to take," Arnulf said, his voice a little threadier now from so much talking. Yet he was clearly determined to say everything he had to say. "The marriage contract with Marina was intended not only to solve the problem Father had decided you had, but also to serve as a sharp reminder to you that you had duties and responsibilities: you were a prince, and you seemed to have a way of forgetting that."

Frigidly Christian said, "I don't forget, Arnulf, not for a moment. I have never been allowed to forget. There has been only one person with whom I can ever forget my station in life, and she's sitting here beside me. And I find it exhilarating to be just Christian, instead of His Royal Highness, Prince Christian Carl Tobias Enstad of Lilla Jordsö…and unofficial ambassador and spokesman for his country." He shook his head and shifted in his chair. "You'll have to excuse me one moment…I'm afraid nature is calling." He gave Leslie a rueful smile, and she grinned back, watching him rise and leave the room.

In his absence, Leslie and Arnulf regarded each other, she a bit warily, he with great curiosity. "Tell me about yourself," Arnulf requested.

To Leslie it sounded like a royal command; she was too uncertain of protocol, and had no way of knowing what and whether she could refuse him, as Christian did. "I'm 36 years old," she said slowly, "and I was born in Connecticut, in the United States…I don't know, please, tell me what you'd like to know."

"Christian told me your name was Leslie Hamilton," Arnulf recalled. "Yet he said you are Mr. Roarke's daughter…how is that possible?"

"Oh…" Leslie smiled briefly and explained this to him, and he nodded.

"It seems," he said, "that you are the focus of my brother's life. When he came here to tell me he meant to marry you and move to Fantasy Island, I simply rejected the idea out of hand. It was time that he fulfilled his duty."

"So you forced his hand," Leslie said. "Christian had gone for so long without falling in love, you didn't believe it when he finally did."

Arnulf peered at her. "You waited for him," he said.

"Because I loved him, and I still love him," Leslie said without hesitation. "Even when I thought that damned arranged marriage was some stupid royal whim Christian was trying to pull on me, I loved him. I loved him all the more for the effort he went to, to explain to me what had really happened. Did you know that's why he insisted on having the reception on Fantasy Island? He could see no other way to get to me—I'd have rejected phone calls and e-mails, and he knew it. He had to do it in person to get me to listen, and he did it without even thinking about it. He begged me to wait for him, do you know that? Marina had to explain things to make me understand what had really happened, and it took me a while to realize that he'd been trapped by the machinations of others and that it wasn't his fault at all. We found ways to see each other, and we stayed in touch, and our love just got stronger all the while." She paused, studying her wedding ring, then looked at Arnulf with resolve. "I love your brother, Your Majesty. I love Christian so much, I can't imagine my life without him in it. I'll love him as long as I live. He's a beautiful person inside and out, and I think it's a miracle he's even capable of feeling what he does, after everything he's been through. I feel incredibly privileged even to know him, much less to be his wife."

Arnulf stared at her, speechless; she nervously broke their gaze and examined her shoes. And then they both heard the door close.

Arnulf turned his head and Leslie looked up: and there stood Christian, his eyes wide, his face filled with wonder. "Are you all right?" Leslie asked, rising.

"I've never been better," Christian said softly, staring at her. "Leslie, my Rose, I've never heard anything so moving in my life."

"You heard?" she asked, startled.

Christian nodded, then held out his arms. "Come here, my darling…"

She walked into his embrace, and only then saw the tears in his eyes. "Oh, Christian, my love, you're not going to cry, are you, after all your pleading with me not to do it?"

"Hypocritical of me, isn't it, my darling?" he agreed with a shaky chuckle that jarred one of his tears loose. He abruptly hugged her hard, his trembling hand smoothing her hair. "I love you so very much, my Leslie Rose, now and forever. I love you." He drew his head back and kissed her; they had both forgotten Arnulf was gaping at them.


	7. Chapter 7

§ § § -- June 26, 2001

They parted only when Arnulf coughed suddenly, reminding them that they weren't alone after all. Christian held Leslie possessively close, regarding his brother with some unreadable expression. "Do you still think I'm gay?" he finally asked, a teasing note in his voice that surprised both Leslie and the king.

Arnulf laughed, weakly and breathily, but it was still a laugh. "No, I am convinced you are not," he assured Christian. "I have not yet finished. Please, sit here and let me say the rest of my piece." He watched Christian and Leslie return to their chairs, and when they had sat again, he drew in a long, faintly labored breath. "I can never make up for what Father and I did to you through the years. We both believed we were acting in your best interests. I see now that we had too heavy a hand with you. Perhaps you hate me, Christian, and if this is so, I cannot truly blame you. I can only extend to you my sincerest apologies. I also apologize to you, Leslie, for causing the misunderstanding between you and Christian when I enforced the marriage contract. After I did, I could see that Christian had become different somehow…his demeanor was colder, and though he was always popular with our people, I sensed that his warmth toward them was no longer genuine. If I had merely listened to you, Christian, when you told me that you had developed an interest in another woman…"

Leslie looked at Christian. "When was that?" she asked.

"The day I asked you to dinner for the first time," Christian told her. "It was when you caught me returning to my bungalow from the beach. I was running off my frustration over Arnulf's announcement that I must return here to be married off. I told him to cancel the contract, because I had an interest in a woman already—namely you."

"I see," she said very softly and smiled, reaching for his hand again.

"I can see now that it was a great error on my part," Arnulf said, his voice now so weak that they had to strain to hear him. "In my blindness I caused you to waste four years of your lives that you could have spent together." He focused on them and smiled sadly. "Christian, Father and Mother would both have adored Leslie."

"I know they would," Christian agreed softly, turning to Leslie and kissing her forehead. "I wish you could have met them, my darling, especially Mother."

"I received word the day before my heart attack," Arnulf said then. "The paperwork voiding your title has garnered most of the ratifying signatures it needs to become official, and I estimate perhaps two to three weeks further before you become Christian Enstad, private citizen. Of course, since you are no longer living in this country, you realize that as soon as you cease to be a prince, you will lose your citizenship here."

"I understand that," Christian said calmly. "I knew it would happen when I realized I wanted to marry Leslie and decided to go to her, rather than making her uproot her life. Perhaps you think I am throwing away a great deal, but in my eyes, I'm gaining far more than I lose. I love her, Arnulf, so much that I'm willing to do anything for her."

"So I see," Arnulf said, staring at them. "I believe I have never seen a love like yours. I wish you both everything good in life. And Christian, whatever you think of me, please know that I may yet live to regret it. If I do not, I hope that you believe me when I tell you I am deeply sorry for the pain I have caused you."

Christian hesitated. "Arnulf, before I say anything…I just want to know. Whom did you threaten on Mr. Roarke's island in order to get the telephone number to the house where Leslie and I were honeymooning?"

Leslie giggled softly; he looked serious! "Those promotional overseas trips," she said to Arnulf, "those were another attempt to remind Christian of his 'duty', weren't they?"

"Yes, they were," Arnulf admitted. "I must apologize for that too. Ahhh, perhaps it is no use…" He turned away and closed his eyes.

Leslie took in Christian's torn expression. "My love, talk to me, please…"

He turned to her, regarded her with open love, then smiled ever so slightly and closed his eyes too, dipping his head till it rested against hers. "I have two minds," he murmured, so low that only she heard. "Part of me wants to deny him that last absolution, and part of me is appalled at how selfish I am when it comes to him." He opened his eyes again and looked at her. "You forgave Michael Hamilton once, didn't you?"

"Once," she said softly, smiling wryly. "I understand how you feel, my darling, believe me. But it was very strange how I felt…set free…when I forgave him. I think you will too."

Christian drew in a breath, as if bracing himself. "Let's see if it works for me as it did for you," he whispered, and she grinned. He kissed her softly before releasing her, rising and moving to the side of the bed. "Arnulf…"

Slowly the king rolled his head back around on his pillow till he was looking up at his youngest brother. "Yes, Christian?"

"I…" Again Christian hesitated; he cleared his throat, shoved his hands into his pockets and began to rock back and forth on his feet, hanging his head. Leslie, amused, got to her feet and came up beside him, peering impishly up at him and grinning when she caught his sheepish look.

"Come on, my love, I'm right here," she said, stepping behind him and slipping her arms around his waist. "I promised I'd stand behind you."

Christian half twisted around and growled, "You little tease." She laughed softly, and when he loosed a reluctant chuckle and turned back to face Arnulf, he saw a broad smile on the king's face.

"Once I had that with Kristina," Arnulf remembered. "Do not lose it, _lill'bror."_

"I hope I never do," Christian said quietly. He closed his eyes again for just a moment, gave a quiet sigh, then focused on Arnulf and spoke as if he had to unglue the words from his tongue. "I…I forgive you, Arnulf…and your apologies are accepted."

Arnulf stared at him, as if unsure he should believe what he heard, and then a new smile, faint but sincere, broke forth. "Thank you…"

"Only one thing," Christian suddenly said with light exasperation. "Arnulf, for the last time, please—stop calling me 'little brother'!"

Arnulf grinned, and Leslie half collapsed with laughter, making Christian turn in her embrace and playfully grab a fistful of her hair. "Watch it, Leslie Susan Enstad, or you're going to pay later."

"I'm looking forward to it," she said wickedly, giggling. "There, it wasn't so hard to say after all, was it?"

"Of course it was difficult for him to say," Arnulf remarked, surprising them both. "In view of that, I appreciate it all the more." He lifted a shaking hand and grasped Leslie's. "I am grateful to have had the chance to meet you at last. Thank you for bringing so much light into Christian's life."

"I'm happy to have met you too, Your Majesty," Leslie said. "And thank you for your effort. I think it's really helped Christian to truly forgive you."

"I have my hopes," Arnulf murmured, amused. "I see by that clock that I am due for some medication. I do not wish to make you run away, but I can see you prefer to be elsewhere. Please, be happy, Christian and Leslie, both of you, for all your lives. It is the wish I should have given you years ago."

Slowly Christian and Leslie left the room, brushing past the nurse who came in with the medication Arnulf had mentioned, and returned to the waiting room, arm in arm and quiet, both reflecting on all that had happened in the last hour. The other Enstads arose as one when they saw the couple come into the waiting room. "How did it go?" Carl Johan asked, looking faintly anxious.

Christian focused on him with genuine surprise. "It went…well," he said, sounding a little stunned. "It actually went well. Something I never expected."

Anna-Kristina smirked at him. "That's because you had Aunt Leslie there," she said. "I knew she'd soften up Pappa. You look different somehow, Uncle Christian."

Christian looked curiously at her, let his gaze drop out of focus as he contemplated her remark, and then turned to Leslie with wonder in his hazel eyes. "You were right, my Rose," he said softly in amazement. "I do feel free…and I never expected that either."

The nurse Christian and Leslie had seen came in and said, "His Majesty has requested to see you, Princess Anna-Kristina, Princess Gabriella and Prince Elias…if you please."

Gabriella turned to Gerhard and Liselotta and said something to them in _jordiska_, and they both nodded and sat down again. Christian watched Arnulf's daughters and son-in-law leave together, then looked at Carl Johan. "Since Gerhard and Liselotta will be staying to see Arnulf, what do you wish to do?" he asked.

Anna-Laura broke in, "Why don't you return with us, Carl Johan—I'll go back with Christian and Leslie to the castle. There's something we must give him."

"That's right, I had forgotten," Carl Johan said, snapping his fingers. "Very well, I'll come with you also." He told Gerhard and Liselotta as much in _jordiska_, and the four of them made their way out to the long black car that still waited for them.

"Something you must give me?…like what?" Christian asked when the car was winding through the city streets, heading back for the coastal route.

"A birthday gift," Anna-Laura said.

Carl Johan rolled his eyes. "It was Anna-Laura's idea," he said, "and frankly, Christian, I don't know how much enjoyment you'll get from it. I think Leslie will appreciate it rather more than you will, to tell the truth."

Christian aimed a suspicious stare at his sister. "I knew it," he said. "You're going to embarrass me in front of my wife, aren't you?" That brought on a round of laughter, but Anna-Laura and Carl Johan both refused to divulge any more.

At the castle, Anna-Laura said, "Why don't you show Leslie the sitting room, Christian, and Carl Johan and I will get your present." She firmly took her older brother's arm and pulled him, grumbling, along with her. Christian stared after her with a raised eyebrow, then got a wicked twinkle in his eye and turned to Leslie.

"Sitting room, nothing," he said in a low, conspiratorial voice. "Since my sister had the utter lack of sense to leave us alone, she's going to pay for it. Come with me, my Leslie Rose, and I'll show you a couple of special places." He took her hand and urged her along with him, and she snickered delightedly and followed his sudden run down a hallway, up a flight of stairs and along a still longer hallway, with door after door on either side. She was breathless by the time Christian halted; in fact he too was breathing a little hard.

"I haven't run that entire corridor in about thirty years," he realized, grinning at her and wilting against the wall. "I must be losing my touch."

"Can't…even…breathe," she managed, grinning back and pretending to be shorter of breath than she actually was. Christian rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Look here," he said and pushed open the door they had stopped in front of, revealing a large, surprisingly modern-looking room with an enormous bed dominating the left-hand wall, a beautiful antique rolltop desk opposite that, two huge polished wooden armoires, a couple of chairs, and plush wall-to-wall carpeting under their shoes. "This," Christian told her, "was my childhood bedroom."

"Good grief," Leslie said, taking it in, "it doesn't look much like a child ever lived here. I mean…didn't you have toys and stuff when you were little? It looks like a guest room."

"The toys disappeared decades ago," Christian said, amused, "and whatever personal belongings I had in here by the time I moved out came along with me. I have a feeling this room hasn't been slept in since I left it." He drew her fully inside and shoved the heavy door firmly shut. "There used to be locks on this door and the one on that wall there." He indicated another door almost directly opposite the one through which they had entered. "It seems those are gone now. I had a way of barricading myself behind these doors during the first six or seven years of my life, when I was angry with someone and wanted nothing to do with people. Then I finally learned that there were so many rooms in this castle, I could easily hide out in another unused corner, and it could be literally days before anyone found me if I chose." He grinned at some recollection. "I put that to the test when I was eleven. My father and I had had an unusually stormy clash about something I've since forgotten, and I was determined that I'd get revenge on him…my idea of which was to disappear. I waited till the middle of that night, sneaked to the castle kitchens and loaded two picnic baskets with food and drinks, and then went to the topmost floor where the servants have their rooms. There are more rooms now than servants, though this wasn't true in the distant past. At any rate, I found a room so dusty it must have been abandoned for years, and I shut myself in there and somehow succeeded in hiding for four days."

Leslie developed a mental picture of him even as he spoke, imagining a hurt and angry boy trying to make a statement, and smiled softly at him. "If you really want to discourage Carl Johan and Anna-Laura from finding us, you might want to show me that room!"

Christian laughed. "Undoubtedly it's even dustier now than it was when I moved into it temporarily. I remember sneezing for half an hour after I got into the bed there the first night, and I was terrified that someone would hear me and reveal my whereabouts."

"If you stayed hidden for four days, somebody must have called the cops at the very least," Leslie said quizzically.

Christian shrugged, wandering to the bed. "As a matter of fact, I missed a major press conference while I was hiding up there, something about Arnulf getting engaged to Kristina, I think. I found out from Mother later that they covered it by telling the media I was too ill to join the family. In reality they didn't know where I was, and had no wish to create a national panic over it."

"Because they knew you were somewhere in the castle?" Leslie guessed.

"Possibly, but I think primarily they just didn't want to be bothered by outsiders swarming all over the castle and grounds trying to roust me out," Christian said, grinning. "It was 'an internal matter'." He regarded the bed then; it sat up high enough that there was a little stepstool beside it. "Come up here with me, my Rose."

Leslie ventured closer and peered at the bed. "Why is it so high? My word, I think it's taller than you!"

Christian laughed loudly. "That's a challenge if I ever heard one. This bed is some three hundred years old—from a time when they were built that way on purpose for the royalty and nobility. Let me see if I can do this." He braced his back against the side of the bed, lifted his arms and flattened his hands on the mattress, then bounced experimentally a few times on his feet as if trying to build up momentum. Then he jumped as high as he could and hoisted himself backwards, managing to land on the mattress. Leslie burst out laughing, and he grinned back. "Well, come on up here!"

"What is this, 'me Tarzan, you Jane' or something?" she kidded. "Maybe I should be civilized and just use that stepstool over there."

Christian regarded her impishly, lying on his stomach with his elbows braced under him and his chin in both palms. "That's no fun," he remarked. "You're supposed to ask me to help you get up here."

"Oh, is that how it works. First let me see if I can do it myself." Well aware that he was watching her with unconcealed merriment, she stepped out of her shoes and made a show of gauging the height of the bed. She was shorter than he by a good six inches, and she knew she'd never succeed in getting up there the same way he had done. But she figured she might as well playact for his benefit; so she laid her forearms on the mattress and launched herself off her feet, landing with her body on the mattress from the waist up and struggling to work herself the rest of the way there.

By now Christian was snickering. "Give up yet?" he asked mirthfully.

"Where's that princely chivalry when a girl needs it the most?" she shot back playfully. "I thought you were waiting for the chance to help me."

"You have to ask for it, remember?" he countered.

"Oh, in that case…" She switched to a Minnie Mouse squeak and bleated, "Help me, help me!" Roaring with laughter, Christian hitched himself forward till his upper torso hung off the side of the bed, stretched one arm out and grabbed her ankle, pulling her around in a circle till she landed on the mattress. By the time she got there, she was laughing so hard the tears had started, fueling Christian's mirth in turn. Leslie rolled toward him and he caught her in his arms, rocking her as they let their glee spend itself.

"I hope," Leslie said then with a devilish look, "that you didn't have a habit of falling out of bed as a child." That set off Christian all over again, and she giggled helplessly, happy to see him this way. He'd been through so much crazy emotion since Anna-Kristina had first told him of Arnulf's heart attack, and she wanted to make things as happy as she could for him under the circumstances.

"I did fall out once, when I was five or so," he admitted when he could speak. "Of course, I landed on my head—hard enough that I got a concussion out of it."

"Oh, Christian!" she exclaimed, but he was laughing again, and she couldn't help joining in. "The stories you must have about this place!"

"Too many to count," he said, easing her down and lying beside her, propping himself up on one elbow. "I expect one day to hear some stories from your childhood, you know. It's only fair." He looked around. "I was supposed to share this room with Johanna when I was married to her, but she chose her own somewhere else, and never even set foot in here."

Leslie studied him. "Maybe I'm asking for too much information, but _did_ you ever consummate that marriage?"

Christian peered at her for a few seconds, then quietly told her what he would never tell anyone else, before losing all resistance to temptation and making love with Leslie in a room that, under other circumstances, they might have shared. The experience sent both of them to their usual dizzy heights; somewhere in his dazed state, Christian thought he could still hear the echo of her soft voice crying out his name, as she always did.

Ten minutes passed, and then Leslie murmured drowsily, "Weren't you supposed to be getting something for your birthday?"

Christian's head shot up with startled alarm. _"Herregud,_ I forgot completely. You do have a way of giving me amnesia, Leslie Enstad." They grinned at each other and swiftly, if reluctantly, dressed again, then left the room hand in hand. Once outside, though, he clearly got another idea; the devilish twinkle was back in his eye. "Two more places to show you, first. Anna-Laura's embarrassing moment can wait." At her laugh, he broke into another run, tugging her along in his wake.


	8. Chapter 8

§ § § -- June 26, 2001

This time, when they came to a hallway about midway back in the direction of the great entry hall, he veered off into it and ran its length, emerging into a second hallway that, like the first, was lined with doors. "How many rooms does this place have, anyway?" Leslie asked when he paused in the intersection of the two corridors, glancing back and forth. "I think you could easily house the entire population of Sundborg in here."

Christian laughed again. "I've had that thought on occasion myself. If I have my history correct, there are at least two hundred fifty rooms in this castle. Some very distant ancestor of mine obviously believed that bigger is better. Wait, now I remember. Come this way." And once more they were off and running.

Not till they had reached the last door on the left of the long hallway did he stop; the door here, installed nearly in the corner of the end of the corridor, plainly led to some very large room. The door beside it was a good thirty feet away. "My favorite room in this entire bloated edifice," Christian said and pressed down on the handle, throwing it open and bringing Leslie inside. "Look."

Leslie drew in a sharp, stunned breath. This room had mostly been left as it must have originally been built, with its stone walls, floor and ceiling; only the outer wall had been altered, and it was built entirely of enormous sheets of reinforced glass. It encompassed two stories; the floor below them was clearly an atrium, filled as it was with plants, including a few small trees. Christian and Leslie, standing on the second floor, were on a ten-foot-wide balcony that ran all the way around the room's perimeter; on the far side, at the glass wall, there were a few overstuffed chairs placed at irregular intervals, with small tables next to some. The view beyond the windows was spectacular: nothing but ocean and open sky as far as the eye could see. Leslie leaned over the railing a bit, gaping entranced at the sight, glancing once at the plants in the open space below and then staring once more at the sea as if unable to control herself. Then she turned to Christian. "This is where you came to watch storms, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes, this is it," Christian said, smiling reminiscently. "Come around here to the far side so you can see this properly." He took her hand and escorted her along the balcony, bringing her far enough around so that they stood just at the middle of the expanse of glass. From this vantage point they could see waves breaking over massive boulders at the foot of the sheer cliff atop which the castle was built, and at the left could be seen some more of the grounds on a curving promontory, with an eight-foot retaining wall of stone bordering it. Leslie moved into Christian's embrace and slid her arms around him, her eyes never leaving the scene before them.

"I used to sit in that chair in the far corner there," Christian said softly, like Leslie gazing at the vast ocean vista. "That way, all I saw was sea and sky…and some of the most beautiful and violent weather the North Sea can conjure up. There was nothing to rival it for sheer sensory stimulation…not, at least, until the first time I made love to you." Leslie smiled at that, warming at the sensation of the kiss he pressed atop her head; and for some time they stood staring, unwilling to tear themselves away.

In time Christian heaved a sigh of reluctance and squeezed Leslie. "As much as I wish we could, we can't stand here all day. If possible, though, I want you to see this at night: the stars are indescribable. For some time I recall badgering my parents to let me move my bedroom in here." He grinned when she laughed.

"I can see why," Leslie admitted. "It's simply amazing—more than I was able to imagine it when you first mentioned it. Okay, so what else did you want to show me?"

"Oh yes, that's right. This is a bit of whimsy," Christian told her as they strolled back around the balcony to the door. "My father was one for hosting lavish parties whenever we had visiting dignitaries. I was forbidden to put in appearances at any of them until after I reached the age of thirteen; supposedly adolescence would automatically impart a special brand of maturity on me." He rolled his eyes at that idea, making Leslie laugh again. "But until then, I was more curious than all of Anna-Kristina's cats put together. I mean…who were all these people, anyway? What was so wonderful about them that they merited all this celebrating and fancy formality? I decided at a very young age that I wanted to find out for myself. Actually, my grandfather planted the idea in my head. I must have been around three years old—one of the two or three snapshot recollections I have of him. He was supposed to meet some ambassador or other, from where, I don't know. My still-life memory is of standing at the balcony railing in the entry, with Grandfather crouching behind me to help protect me, pointing out that dignitary sitting in the hallway below, waiting for him."

Leslie gave him a merry look. "You were spying, the two of you, weren't you!"

"Exactly so!" Christian said cheerfully, joining in her laughter. "And for the next ten years, I took every chance I could to go on doing that. I'd sneak onto that balcony…just like this, actually." They had reached the end of the second-floor hallway, which opened onto a balcony that ran the length of the great entry, and now Christian dropped into a crouch of his own and duck-walked to the ornate iron railing. Leslie watched, entranced by his playacting, again falling helplessly in love with him. "You see here," he said, "where the spokes are set so close together, and with all this ridiculous scrolling ironwork, this thing is more of a low wall than a railing, really. It was very easy for me to hide back here and squint through some tiny space between wrought-iron leaves and get a good look at all the lofty personalities waiting for my father's leisure, or the fussy formal balls that were held here. This was the only place in the castle big enough for those; for all the rooms we have, there's no proper ballroom." Still crouching, he turned to her with bright eyes and beckoned at her. "Come and see for yourself…but don't let anyone know you're up here, remember."

"Is there someone down there?" Leslie asked in a whisper, stealing out onto the balcony beside him and squatting there. Bracing herself with her palms, she peered with one eye between slender bars and intertwining iron vines, surprised to realize she could get a good look at the rows of chairs in the hallway below. "Did you ever get caught?"

"Never," Christian murmured smugly, catching her attention and taking in her skeptical expression. "Truly, I never did. Perhaps some servants might have seen me here, but I was a prince…they had no place to say anything, and I knew it." He shot a glance back down the hallway they'd just traversed, then tipped in toward her and kissed her until they both forgot where they were.

"You troublemaker, you," Leslie whispered dreamily when he pulled back, and he smirked. "I love you all the more, Christian, do you know that? Just seeing this place where you went through so much…watching you bring your memories to life for me…do you realize what that does to me? I feel as if I have a window on your childhood somehow."

"I expect you to return the favor eventually," Christian reminded her softly, planting one more kiss on her lips before casually glancing at his watch. "There are other places, but these were the most important, at least to me. Before Anna-Laura sends every servant in the castle after us, we'd better go to the sitting room."

Rising, they strolled back into the hallway again and then turned down the stairwell that Christian had initially brought her up; from here, on the first floor, they turned to their left and walked down the corridor a short distance to the second door on their right. Sure enough, when Christian ushered Leslie in, Carl Johan and Anna-Laura were there, along with his son Rudolf, her son Roald, and Arnulf's daughter Margareta. "Where have you two been all this time?" Anna-Laura scolded. "We expected to find you here when we came back down, and we started to think you got lost."

Christian eyed her and said, "What, I'm not allowed to show Leslie some of the scenes of my childhood, then? Listen, just whose birthday is this, anyway? I always heard that the birthday person can do whatever he or she likes. Why the fuss, and incidentally, where are Cecilia and Axel and Kristina?"

"Kristina's gone to the hospital," Carl Johan said as Christian and Leslie sat down. "Cecilia has a doctor's appointment, and Axel went with her. They said they would try to get back early enough to get in on our little birthday celebration here." He called out something in _jordiska_, and the door to some adjacent room opened and two servants wheeled in an ornate silver cart bearing a two-tiered cake.

"I hope the ice cream didn't melt," Roald said with a grin at his uncle. He was a surprisingly handsome young devil, not so unlike Christian in looks, but sporting a faddish two-day stubble. "We bought enough for all the servants to have some in honor of your birthday, Uncle Christian…so if it did melt, you may have to reimburse us."

"In your dreams, as Leslie would say," Christian retorted, and everyone laughed, including the servants. "We're going to spoil our dinner, I should think."

Margareta made a face. "It's only going to be cabbage and pork," she said disgustedly. "I'd far rather have cake. Are you so responsible now, Uncle Christian? We don't even know Aunt Leslie…only Anna-Kristina had the chance to really get to know her at all. Did you do something to him, then?" This last, Margareta aimed at Leslie.

Leslie snickered. "I'll never tell." They all laughed again, and the servants doled out cake and bowls of ice cream, then departed, leaving the family enjoying the desserts and talking about inconsequentials for a while. Then, after one of the servants had come back to collect the plates and bowls, Anna-Laura got an anticipatory look about her and arose, going to a sideboard between two windows. Only now did Christian and Leslie realize that sitting atop this was a large, squarish, almost flat package wrapped in expensive-looking iridescent foil paper. Anna-Laura brought it to Christian and deposited it in his lap.

"_Herregud,"_ said Christian in one of his favorite expressions, which he had earlier told Leslie was a direct import from Swedish and meant "oh my God"; he let out an exaggerated grunt of effort when he lifted it to find a place to start removing the wrapping. "Don't tell me. You gave me a set of bricks for my birthday."

"Perfectly matched, yes," Carl Johan said with a wicked look at Anna-Laura. "In seriousness, I haven't really seen these things, but it's my understanding that Anna-Laura did a very thorough job."

"She should have," Margareta said with a smirk. "She had help from me, Briella, Anna-Kristina and Cecilia. We scoured the entire castle for all these things."

Christian stared at her, about to rip some paper off the package. "What under the sun can this thing possibly be, anyway? Are you sending us home with some of the furniture that's been stored on the third floor since King Ormsskägg built this place?"

"You know perfectly well that was Orms_svärd_, Christian Carl Tobias," snapped Anna-Laura in exasperation, but even she succumbed to the others' laughter. "And shame on you for not translating for poor Leslie."

"You're going to have to teach me _jordiska,"_ Leslie said, giving Christian a playful slap on the thigh. "What's the big joke?"

"That was our original ancestor…he was born a common Viking," Christian told her, "but when he came here with the first band of settlers, he was the one who led the revolt from the ship off which they supposedly all jumped to swim here. As a result, he was set up as Lilla Jordsö's very first king, and through the last nine hundred years or so, all of us in the royal family have descended from him. His name, Ormssvärd, means 'snake's sword' in English…but I constantly forget and call him Ormsskägg, which means 'snake's beard'."

"Christian Enstad, you disrespectful rat, you!" Leslie exclaimed only half teasingly, wilting against him with laughter. "Are you actually serious?"

"He _is_ serious, Leslie, believe it or not," Carl Johan said, grinning. "Except that I don't think he forgets—he simply likes to drive Anna-Laura crazy, since she's quite the student of history. You must have known that Christian can be a relentless tease."

"Oh, I've been learning," Leslie said with a mischievous look at her husband, who was watching her with a huge amused grin, "and by the way, my love, you'd better get started opening that or else I'll do it for you."

"You already had your birthday for the year," Christian shot back, still grinning. "This is mine. Back down." Leslie stuck out her tongue at him and he retaliated with a noisy kiss on her lips. "Tell you what, you can hold the wrapping paper." He ripped away a big swath of it and dropped it into her lap, and Leslie playfully batted the side of his head with it, eliciting a laugh from him, while he went on tearing paper off his gift. After a few seconds he found himself staring down at two large, thick scrapbooks. _"Va' är dehär?"_ he asked in disbelief, apparently forgetting himself and reverting to _jordiska_.

"What that is," Anna-Laura said, "is a record of your entire life, Christian, through photographs, newspaper and magazine articles, and assorted bits of your schoolwork and artwork. It begins with announcements of Mother's pregnancy with you and ends, at least for now, with your wedding to Leslie."

Christian stared at her while Leslie, unable to resist, opened the cover of the top book and gazed in fascination at a small collection of newspaper and magazine clippings on the first page, in several languages. "Wow," she breathed, "this is amazing."

"What should I say?" Christian asked, sounding bewildered.

"You should say thank you," Margareta said, pretending affrontery. "We worked very hard on this, Uncle Christian, and that's the polite thing to do."

"Thank you, then," Christian said obediently, but his gaze had already strayed to his wife, who had by now pulled the book into her own lap and was avidly reading the clippings that were in English. Wryly he looked at his brother. "You were right, Carl Johan…I think Leslie will get far more out of this than I will."

"As I figured," Carl Johan said cheerfully. "Those are for you two to take back with you to Fantasy Island and go through at your leisure. Have you given Leslie the grand tour yet, then? I understand you got off to a good start."

"Yes, well…" Christian shrugged. "It would take a full week to show her every room in this place, and the whole idea makes me sleepy. Leslie, my Rose, do you think you can tear yourself away from that for now? You can always look at them on the trip home, you know. Rudolf, if you don't mind, I'd like to borrow your car and take her on a sightseeing tour of something besides this pile of rocks we call home."

"That's fine, if you don't mind dropping me off in the city," Rudolf said. "I promised Mother that Liljan and I would attend that charity function she has tonight." He looked at Leslie and explained with an apologetic smile, "That is, my girlfriend, Liliana. Liljan is her nickname. My mother oversees a children's charity in Sundborg, and Liljan also works for it, which is how I met her."

Leslie smiled. "Good luck to both of you," she said, "and give your mother mine and Christian's greetings too." Rudolf bobbed his head with acknowledgement, and she turned to Christian. "So where were you planning to take me?"

"I'm going to show you all the places you failed to see when you came here eight years ago," Christian said. "I still can't believe I didn't meet you then—if you had stayed longer, perhaps I would have, and I could have steered clear of the whole mess with Marina. Shame on you for skipping out before you'd properly seen anything, Leslie Enstad…we're going to correct that oversight right now." He dropped a kiss on her lips. "Any time you're ready, Rudolf."


	9. Chapter 9

§ § § -- June 27, 2001

It was still dark, even beyond the blackout curtains in the bedroom where Christian and Leslie lay finally asleep after having made love for some time. The clock said two-fifteen; they had been asleep somewhat less than an hour. Leslie's head still rested on Christian's chest, and he had an arm draped limply across her back.

Somewhere in the flat a telephone rang, two shrill old-fashioned rings, a pause, then two more. Leslie moaned softly in her sleep; Christian's breathing hitched momentarily and he stirred. Someone in the next room picked up the phone in the middle of its third double ring and a sleepy voice murmured in _jordiska_. Then there came a startled cry that woke Leslie and Christian at the same moment; she lifted her head and he half sat up.

The voice in the next room belonged to Gerhard, they realized, and Christian tuned in for a moment; then he scowled heavily. Leslie stared at him in alarm. "Christian, my love, what happened?"

"Something's wrong with Arnulf," Christian said, sitting up fully. Leslie pulled herself up too and nestled in beside him, and they waited tensely. Christian looked puzzled; clearly, Gerhard's end of the conversation didn't give much information, but it didn't sound good even to Leslie.

A light went on in the hallway and Liselotta, still looking sleepy, appeared in their doorway. She started to speak, but Gerhard called her name, and she gave them an apologetic look before retreating. A few seconds later there was the sound of a phone being replaced in its cradle with a bang, and then Gerhard stepped into the doorway with Liselotta at his side. Without preamble he said bleakly, "Uncle Arnulf suffered another heart attack just within the last half hour…and he's dead."

Leslie gasped; Christian turned stark white. She instantly turned to him and saw it, and terror for him made her hug him hard. Without a word Christian hugged her back; she could feel the tremors, deep inside him, as if he were cold. Maybe he was, she thought. She had had the same feeling when it had finally sunk in that her mother was dead.

"We must go to the hospital," Gerhard said, raking his hands through his hair. "Aunt Kristina and the girls are over there now…as a matter of fact, Aunt Kristina was with him when he had the second attack. If we can, we'll have to keep it quiet until morning, so that we can have time to make arrangements…" He shook his head and let himself wilt in Liselotta's embrace; the younger couple began to cry softly.

Leslie drew back to gauge Christian's reaction; he stared at her with wide, blank eyes, and she felt her stomach go into free-fall. "Christian, my darling…" she whispered.

"That wasn't supposed to happen," Christian said, his voice quiet, very flat, but with the same shivers Leslie had felt within his body. "He was just 53, my Rose. He…" Christian stopped, a stunned glint entering his eyes as he went on staring at her. "I didn't care yesterday if he lived or died…"

She knew instantly where he was headed with this. "No, Christian, please," she begged, terrified. "Please, don't do this to yourself. It's not your fault, and it's not a punishment for your thoughts. Don't, my darling, please—"

"But you don't understand…" Christian began.

"Yes, I do," Leslie insisted frantically. "I tell you, my love, it's not your fault. For God's sake, Christian, listen to me. _You didn't kill your brother!"_

Christian had that deer-in-the-headlights look again. "I didn't care…"

"That's before you and he made your peace," Leslie reminded him, her voice sharpening with urgency. Unnoticed by either of them, Gerhard and Liselotta turned to stare at them with some alarm of their own. "You do care, my darling, don't you? Don't you?"

He breathed some curse in his own tongue, looking dazed and lost, and then sucked in a loud gasp before abruptly breaking down into sobs that racked his entire body. He clutched Leslie, now his lifeline, while she held him close with every ounce of her strength and rocked him, stroking his hair. She absorbed his sorrow, released some of his and some of her own in her tears, closing her eyes and wordlessly giving him the comfort and support he needed. Gerhard and Liselotta silently stole away, leaving them alone in their grief.  
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_To be continued…of course!_


End file.
